Yes I Will

Some of the folks who have read this column for a while know that I am a diabetic. My pancreas has gone on strike, much like a greedy Wisconsin teacher. (It doesn't produce insulin anymore.) My diabetes has affected my eyesight and my heart. I have had a heart attack and I have a small Charcot break in my left ankle. (A condition common in diabetics with neuropathy.)

Needless to say, my health is somewhat like our federal "government". It always teeters on the edge of total disaster.

My doctor always tells me: "Alan, it's time to start thinking about going on disability. You can't keep keep gambling with your health."

My answer to that: "You can Kevorkian me first, doc."

I've never actually looked into it, but according to my doctor, I have a very a good case and I wouldn't have any problem getting disability. My darling wife thinks it would be a good idea. When I step off a curb the wrong way or I start to see double because my sugar is higher than the national debt, I often ask myself, "Why are you putting up with this crap ?" (Believe me, I'm no hero. I whine and whine. When I'm done whining, I complain bitterly.)

The answer is simple: I have pride in myself. How on God's green and not to metion cooling earth could I possibly live with myself knowing that the money I'm living off of was stolen from some poor working slob working 80 hours a week just to send his kid to college ? How could I live with myself knowing that the money I'm living off of should be going to a 19 year old Marine who returned from Afghanistan without legs ? I'd rather be a bloated diabetic corpse than have any of that stuff on my conscience.

I'm not looking for any "attaboy"s and I think it's worth repeating that I don't think of myself as any sort of hero. I simply live by this credo:

Yes, I will.