I was annoyed that I had a suspicious mole that only was seen because I am bald and started to shave my head. It's currently nothing, but could turn to melanoma, so I'm getting it removed next week. I wasn't worried. I was just annoyed and feared the ironic aspects, in case it were of the cancer variety. I don't fear death, rather I fear being in pain or being a burden to my family. Pain... for the sake of pain without hope of being recovered is worse than death itself on so many levels. Then again, death is forever, while science and miracles do happen from time to time to rid horrid pain and the like.
I am very happy. There's room for improvement, but as a whole, I have a wonderful existence at the present. Regardless of my vomiting the other day or my pending mole removal.
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