3:00 am

I can’t sleep. The back spasms that started after Max left have been coming in waves all evening. It was a good thing I turned down her invitation to go to Crash this evening because I’ve been in no shape to go anywhere. It’s not as if I have ever agreed to go there with her. She has invited me every night this week. And every night I have turned her down. I just can’t see myself in that place.

"No fun for Logan Cale. The world’s coming to an end." She mocked me as she was leaving. "Blah blah, woof woof."

The truth is, she is right. I am not part of her lighthearted world. I don’t belong there. I understand that much about myself. I can’t allow myself to pretend that everything is okay when it’s not. That is not who I am. Still, I appreciate the humor with which she sees the world and I’m glad that she brings some of that into my life.

Max has been over for dinner and chess every night this week. Our evenings together are the highlight of my day.  In the last few weeks, we’ve developed a level of comfort with each other that I never expected. I feed her dinner and in return she mocks Eyes Only and slaughters me at chess. I couldn’t ask for anything more. Still, our recent run-in with Lydecker has opened my eyes to how tentative her situation truly is. I hope she never has to leave because she is the only thing that has been making my life bearable. She takes my mind off my disappointments for a few minutes each day.

I’m not surprised that these spasms are happening, now that I’m already having a challenge keeping my life together. We wouldn’t want to get too comfortable. We wouldn’t want to spend too much time whining about how bad things are, because they can always get worse. I know what is happening tonight falls in the latter category. Things are getting worse. Again.

I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s bad. Bling won’t be able to fix this one. It is not a simple muscle ache. It is something much deeper, something definitely wrong. It’s going to require Sam’s attention, if it can be fixed at all, and I have no guarantee of that. I can hear Sam’s voice now.

"Logan, I have bad news…."

That’s the story of my life.

"Logan, I have bad news, your mother is dying."

"Logan, I have bad news, your wife is an alcoholic."

"Logan, I have bad news, your body guard died trying to protect you."

"Logan, I have bad news, you are a paraplegic."

"Logan, I have bad news, you directed an assassin to your friend’s door."

"Logan, I have bad news, the world is coming to an end."

Blah blah, woof woof. Bad news. I am so familiar with it. It’s a constant in our world and a constant in my life. So I just deal. I deal with the consequences. Then I move on. That is what I have done in the past and that is what I will continue to do. That is what I will do this morning. Sam will give me his bad news. I will accept it. I will do what I have to do. Then I will move on and steel myself for the next round of bad news.

1:00 pm

I’m going in for more surgery tomorrow. Bruno Anselmo reached out from my past and shot me again. A bullet fragment that was not removed during the first surgery is impacting my spinal cord and causing the back spasms. This fragment is lodged much higher in my spine, so if we do nothing, it could migrate further and cause much more damage. Sam said I could end up quadriplegic or even on a ventilator. I believe that qualifies as bad news. How could I function without the use of my hands or my arms? I can’t even fathom that possibility.

What scares me more, though, is that the surgery itself is likely to cause additional damage. If they need to go in even an inch or two higher, I could lose control of my abdominal muscles. I would lose my sitting stability. I would not even be able to sit straight in a chair. The months of work Bling and I have done to rebuild my abdominals would disappear in an instant. I can understand this, and the prospect haunts me more than anything. No one should have to deal with this. No one should even have to think about this.