my surgeon wanted me to donate my body for research. he retired before i died (we expected me to survive ten years something like thirty years ago) but there's a small corpus of research out there on me. seven or eight papers from various doctors. it's kinda weird.

Like she could have you bend over and she'd put a paper on your back and write on it?

The first time I saw a psychiatrist, she asked if she could hug me.

It was cool with me, so I accepted. She seemed truly moved, and although I can hypothesize as to why, but I don't think I'll ever actually know.

It does make me think I should write a book sometime.