You know I am in the dark side of my 80s. And you know from Moment #42 that I suffered a seizure affecting the language center of my brain that caused me literally to “see” sentences I was trying to speak. An unheard-of symptom.

Well, I had a second seizure that apparently has somewhat ruptured the interrogation sector of the language center, causing swarms of random, promiscuous interrogative sentences to run in a continuous chyron, like a ticker tape, across my line of vision. Here are a few samples of these bizarre question clusters that I have seen.

“Why am I embarrassed to wear compression stockings with shorts? Is Trivago right, can hotels simultaneously charge different rates for the same room? How come American capitalism is not working economically for so large a number of citizens?”

“What is the best treatment for my fungoid toenail from hell? To whom is the United States 40 trillion dollars in debt? Why are they asking about my urine stream? What is a Houthi?”

“Is it time to toss the sildenafil tablets? Shouldn’t we find a way to eliminate the influence of millions of dollars on elections? Where have all the flowers gone, longtime passing? What if I die first?”

“Was my first Irish coal miner immigrant ancestor with black lung and nine children a citizen? Are data centers like shopping centers for the mind? When does the time limit on accessing the Epstein files run out? Why didn’t I save more for retirement?”

“Why did it take me a decade to ask the Asian clerk at the dry cleaners her first name? Shouldn’t Bethlehem’s newspaper of record have a reporter designated to cover City Council? Why do some law enforcement officers wear masks? What ever happened to Baby Jane?”

“Will doctors replace my 20+ year-old heart valve? Why are my conversations with Betty dominated by ‘huh’s’? When did the car chase become a tactic of choice for some law enforcement entities? Quo vadis?”

Get the idea? See what my life is like? A nightmare. My treatment will be handled by the new AI Physician’s Assistant at St. Luke’s. I may not be cured, but there’s promise I should get answers of some sort to my questions. Round Three?