It's January. January 2016.
It's been 14 months since my previous entry here. A lot of things have happened since, a lot of people have died since: Georges Wolinski, Jean Cabut ("Cabu"), Stéphane Charbonnier (Charb"), Philippe Honoré, Bernard Maris ("Oncle Bernard") and Bernard Verlhac ("Tignous") were killed by terrorists at Charlie Hebdo in January 2015.
On the evening of 13 November 2015 terrorists attacked Paris once again, this time killing 130 innocent people and injuring 368.
People I admired and/or influenced my life, like Anita Ekberg, Michele Ferrero, Claude Criquielion, Leonard Nimoy, Günter Grass, Percy Sledge, Richard Anthony, Ben E. King , Geoff Duke, Jef Geeraerts, B.B. King , Erik Carlsson, Christopher Lee , James Last , Heinz Polzer ("Drs. P"), Laura Antonelli, Val Doonican, Jules Bianchi, Cilla Black, Guy Ligier, Dora van der Groen, Erik De Vlaeminck, Lemmy Kilmister, Natalie Cole and David Bowie all passed away. Some of them, like Jules Bianchi, much too young.
I, myself, nearly escaped death and had to undergo a quadruple coronary artery bypass.
In December 2014, the coming year seemed promising, as I was about to move house, and leave the troubles and noisy neighbors behind. For the first half of 2015, I was busy in the new house, painting and decorating, doing the garden, digging a pond, figuring out what plants to buy, etc...
Then one sunny Summer's day, I had a series of angina pectoris, so I went to the hospital for what was to be a percutaneous coronary intervention, but it turned out that I needed more than just a stent, and had urgent surgery on Saturday July 18.
It took several months before I was able to function "normally" again, in the mean time using a mobility scooter for transport in the village, instead of my beloved MV Agusta F4, that I had to sell when the flood of hospital bills came trough the letter box. I had to rent a hospital bed, since my bedroom wasn't finished yet, and I was sleeping on a camping stretcher at the time of the operation. Since I was unable to cook, I had my meals delivered at home. It was quite a harsh period, and with no one around me, I had to do it all by myself.
Today, a half a year later, I am still suffering from a deep depression, in spite of two different Antidepressants and regular visits to the psychiatrist. Doesn't life suck?
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