Having a nice visit with a friend in the hospital recovering from a hip replacement operation and suddenly one of the visitors pipes up about a former co worker of hers who died of It.  Great.  Just what I need to hear about.  Totally ruined my day.  Maybe the whole week.  He died in a hospice.  Great.  Was clear of the disease for many years, then wham.  The greatest prayer remains to just not wake up in the morning.  Like Ann's dad.  Lunch,  then to couch for afternoon nap, and never wakes up.  I hate that God or the universe or fate is playing games with me, fucking with my mind, maybe waiting to torture me.  Why not just kill me.  Fuck I hate this.