He takes my hand.  That farmer of mine.  I ask him how he is.  He says fine.  See,  he lives by the thought; If I live;  Great.  If I die; Better.  He asks me how I am? I begin to weep.  You see, because I don't want to lose him.  Because I am tired.  I am weary.  I am tired of bad news.  I know there is good in everything.  I seek that which is good.  But today.  For the moment.  I am not fine.  I am sad.  I am scared.  I am numb.  The CT scan showed some ... View Post