Blackest Black

Terribly sick day.  Bad physically, bad mentally.  I slept twenty of the twenty-four hours with dreadful nightmares.  Some may have just been thinking, projecting.  Much about death and dying, some about growing old and feeble with no one to care.  It was all the blackest black.  I've eaten two pieces of toast and a small bowl of soup in two days plus a half gallon of Gatorade.  The worst has passed, but I am still in no condition for the factory.

Old Hem had everyone to care for him and he still went mad.  There is no getting around it, I guess.