Who wants me?

I have John Prine's greatest hits on my iPod, but I have only heard it a few times. Except for Springsteen and Christmas music, I mostly just let my iPod shuffle through my tunes.

His lyrics were still the ones that came to me this morning as I was lying on the floor of the bathroom three-quarters naked.

"Please don't bury me / Down in that cold cold ground / No, I'd druther have "em" cut me up / And pass me all around."

Who, I thought, would want any of me?

Not that I was at all near dying or have anything against being buried. Just make sure I am totally dead. My oldest sister isn't the only one who has to take a deep breath at that thought.

I wound up on the floor despite taking extra precautions when removing my longjohns. I decided to sit down to remove them even though it meant resting my bare bottom on my chair. I pulled my longjohns off my waist, then pulled them off my right leg, then I toppled forward off my chair.

I guess I whacked my head on the wall and wound up with my naked right leg getting hooked on every piece of metal on my chair. My skin, especially in the winter, reminds me of that yellow paper like the Declaration of Independence is on. It tears and scrapes so easily. My clothed left leg was wedged under my chair.

That was when I started thinging about John Prine. My eyes have a nystagmus, I would not wish my poor-hearing ears on my worst enemy, all my organs have Friedreich's ataxia. Who'd want any of me but medical scientists?

After that I got up and into the shower. No problem. Of course, I was out of breath until I was brushing my teeth 30 minutes later.

The most annoying thing: I really wanted to "give my Knees to the needy."