Greg Correll


Greg Correll

Greg Correll
New Paltz, New York, US
September 21
Founder, Chief of Deselopy (small packages); Editor (
small packages, inc.
I write.


Greg Correll's Links

JUNE 1, 2012 11:49PM


Rate: 27 Flag
Fuck reporting on my fucking condition. But here it is anyway. I am attempting to work my way back up with the Mirapex, after 2 hours of non-stop vomiting and fighting to stay conscious last Saturday morning. When we get back to 3-2-2 levels I will take the Zofran to try to offset it. Mt. Sinai has little hope, though, they say I have all the signs of no-go for Mirapex, and want to start me on Levadopa. I will try anyway, because, well, because.

Today was the first 2-2-1 day and already it's waves of nausea and light-headedness. It's a fucking shame, the Mirapex was my first relief from tremors and cognitive malfunction in 9 months. If I give up and go on Levadopa I cut a year or more off the remaining number of reliable functioning years I have left. Fuck.

In case it seems like my Saturday morning was just me being sick: I was alone. I could not clean up the first volley on the bedroom floor. I was dry heaving every 5 minutes like clockwork, wrapped around the toilet on the floor, and the whole two+ hours I was hallucinating vivid razorwire cartoon versions of every mistake I've made for the last ten years. Mirapex, the wonder drug. This is what I am voluntarily walking back into, what I am risking again. Just so I can get, maybe, about 5 hours of sharp mind and hand control every day. So: fuck.

Like amphetamine with a backbeat, with a comfy lag time. Get up again at 10:30, work 'til 3 AM, sure. Makes sense. Casually impelled, not compelled. Direct to the brain. That's what Mirapex does.

I am so, so, so tired of all of this. Fuck writing. That's how bad this is. I'm supposed to stay positive. Fuck positive. Fuck life on a roller-coaster. Fuck staring and shaking at night, fuck losing my train of thought after 3 pm, and fuck the stacks of pills that trade one grab-bag of miseries for another. Fuck losing my driver's license. Fuck not following the train of events in a 7 pm movie. Fuck dentists who assume I am a demented old nobody who won't notice shoddy effort. Fuck losing my income. Fuck encouragement, fuck the pointless ecstatic discharge of poetry, and fuck the slow and careless work of indifferent mortality.

I am not depressed. I am pissed, and abjectly miserable. It's a subtle but important difference. In 5 years, probably less, I will face the choice to have DBS surgery; it also includes wires under the skin and a dealy-bob in my substantia nigra that gives me a zetz when i finger the whatsit that emerges from under my collarbone. So a $100,000 brain zapper is legal but pot isn't. Legalize it! It seems like every fucking year they vote on it and every year the private prisons and others lobby, they spend millions buying the votes to shoot it down. Fuck lobbyists, fuck prisons, and fuck cruelty in the name of business.

Fuck effort. Fuck the pointless rustle in the undergrowth that is scrabbling, grasping, delusional human existence. Achievement is a pretense, honor and reward are made of mist. We are the grave error, and the grave will correct us. Fuck suicide, too, so rest easy, and leave it alone. Oh, and fuck nihilism, too. It is neither romantic nor elevating to say fuck everything, so I stop short, and will hold tight the lives of my children, and a precious few besides. Otherwise, fuck all.

Don't even think about trying to fix me or improve my outlook or give me fucking useless hope. Hope is a brain function, and my brain is unreliable now.

And fuck all of fucking Parkinson's Disease all day and all night until it drops dead Thursday, if not sooner. Let me hear an amen.

Your tags:


Enter the amount, and click "Tip" to submit!
Recipient's email address:
Personal message (optional):

Your email address:


Type your comment below:
This may or may not resonate with you, Greg...
I once read thee is now hope for those wishing to use cannabis in medical treatment. It is a distillate of cannabis without the high. Some call it a tincture formula of it. One gets every healthful benefit, but without the high, and therefore it is supposedly legal nearly everywhere.
Wish I could recall where I read about it.
Peace to you and best wishes
And fuck lying to your self about the way you really feel about what you've been enduring--that's basically what you say with this very forthright post.
Your missing "r," for the transforming of "thee" into "there."
amen, greg. fight on.
Amen Greg.
Fuck it all.
I agree. This fucking sucks. Amen and please hold on to those kids and the ones you love.
Amen. Fuck! And, yeah, legalize it.
Some things, there just is nothing to say except fuck. Diving deep into sheer righteous rage becomes your right, and oddly pleasurable.

I'm so sorry these are your days right now. You said no advice, but I have one tidbit it sounds like you may not have discovered: Ziploc freezer bags, a staple among the cancer community. Always carry a few, for unexpected barfs. When I was young, I had a fear of barfing. Now, it's about the same as sneeze.
What Poor Woman and RIta and Green Heron said...and amen and amen again and again.
Amen. "I am pissed, and abjectly miserable." Can you carve out one hour a day for this and the rest, something else? Just do what you need to do. Colorado may legalize mm; you can come visit. rated.
this IS what The Good Fight is about, friend. Please know that, well beyond New Paltz, you are loved.

First, what Jonathan said. Second ... amen, brother.
Rated for being pissed. Good place to be.
Life stinks. sometimes. but it's all we got while we got it.

you're a beautiful poet. I want you to know, I covet your brain, your stunning output because what you create is something else again. yes it is a flawed thing. but show me something in this life that isn't.

I hate what you're going through. I hate that you're suffering. I hate it. not that I matter, but to me, I do. you are special to me. special enough that when I see your name, I know to go to your words. call me selfish. I don't give a shit.

I wish you were next door. I'd make you chicken soup and cake. and if you puked it up, I'd make you something else. I'm a pain in the ass that way.

big hug kid.
amen. and fuck the devil it crawled in on, too.
Amen and ahhhh fuck.
Amen and thanks for writing. You got me this am. Got me good. I needed to hear this.
Amen Greg. Plus, this is quite inspiring, thank you for writing it out here for us.
Oh Greg. ((cyber hug))
"pissed" is certainly better than "depressed". We're all here for you. An another "Amen".
Count this as a fucking amen. As I am presently dealing with a spouse with Stage 3/4 lung cancer, who is about to undergo her 15th Chemo treatment, I have some small idea of what you're going thru -- or at least what those who love you are going thru.

I won't insult your intelligence by offering you false hope; all I can say is hang in there as well as you can as long as you can and pray -- to whatever god or gods or malformed apparition you can conjure up -- pray for a miracle or release.
AMEN to your fucking good and clear rant. Hold those precious close. I love you.
trying to get the r to stick