Cancer treatment in India travel blog


April 2, 2016

Monique's birthday today.

We are at the Boheme. Lots of tourists here today.

I met a guy from OZ and a girl from America. Nice people.

I start chemo tomorrow but I was thinking of starting today. +/- one day means fuck all.

I love that everyone respects me here. Especially Karol Bagh. Cara will never have any problems in my colony. Everyone knows her too. Maybe not to the personal extent I know them but through gossip they know she’s with me. She goes walking on her own and everyone gives her respect. Except the fucking begger ladies and their kids. I have known this same group of peoples for several years and everything for the first two weeks they hassle. Me. The one girl was sprouted six inches since I was here last. I am surprised she is not with child yet. She does carry ground someone else kid though.

Cara has been hanging out with the tattoo walla lately. He has introduced her to his trainer and Golds. They train together. She is going shopping with him for supplements this afternoon. He is recently married. I had to warn Cara. Even though she is twice his age and is my partner she must understand the Indian wife’s perspective of the situation as plutonic as it is and as progressive as they are there could be trouble.

This is the problem I encountered with Annie. Albeit that situation was different. I propagated our relationship to the point whereas Annie had no other option other than to leave. I will go to my grave with the guilt of the pain I caused her.

I don’t know what to do anymore. At that point do I call it, “That’s it, I’m done. I have lived a good one. I know that I have to very little to be guilty of that I know of. I am sure there is a lot that I am unaware of. This is lost.

If appeared to be a “freak” to the average Indian in the past I have crossed a new frontier. Even in Delhi I now stand out as someone who has clearly lost his self. I even feel it when speaking to other travelers. I don’t realize it until I reflect. I got a tattoo on my head and a Mohawk then the ink. I don’t even think about my physical appearance when talking to anyone. My thoughts only occur after the encounter. Every tourist asks me if I live here. Then I have to recount my story time permitting.

I told the American girl today about BLK being the quality of the Mayo in Phoenix. I don’t know whether she believed me or not.

I want to finish of the inside of my left sleeve but am unsure or what to get. I cannot insult one of my Gods whereas to put it on the downside of my body. And I don’t want something meaningless. I will have to think of it. I do want Norse sword. The hilt starting at my belly and the point ending at a point where it cannot seen through an open dress shirt. This is where I need to draw the line. Maybe if when I know time is set in stone I’ll decide.

I went over to a table where there was German fellow speaking German with an Indian boy. I asked to sit with them. He asked me why I wanted to sit with them. I said, “Just to talk.” He grimaced and shooed me away with flick of the wrist. Pedophile. He looks the way. The kid is so young. But he does speak Germen I think this was the language. The tunes (Indian) were quite loud.

One of the reasons I went over to talk to the guy is because he kept on looking over at me. Quire as fuck. I love guys but if you got that type of oddness it = SEX TOURIST. NO respect for them.

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