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The day I was discharged from the hospital one of the phantom heads that popped into my room over the last nine days took pity on me and took me on as a patient.

I felt like the fat kid picked last for Dodgeball; you’re on the team, but they know you’re not going to last very long. I stopped drinking, started to exercise in earnest, and even started eating those things that other people eat to be healthy - what do they call them again? Then after a while I found myself slipping; beer and fast food found their way back into my diet.

In one study, researchers asked participants to imagine being presented with a list of potential partners, with the list ranging in size from one option to 5000 options.Every three hours or so someone would come to my room, find a small area of flesh that had not been invaded; they would stick me with a needle and extract my blood.All day long doctors I had never met before would pop their heads through the doorway of my room, asked how I was feeling, and then went about their rounds. I guess I would have had my own doctor come in to visit but at that point in my life I didn’t have one.Several years ago I woke up one Monday morning and it felt like someone had painted my right eye shut; only a sliver of light made it through the dark red that now consumed my eyesight.After a much panicked call to my ex-wife Arlene she gathered the kids together, picked me up, and drove me to the hospital.