Category: Medical
John is a neurofibromatosis type 2 sufferer and this has led to various circumstances and anecdotes in life including surgery. He’s also a late-deaf adult who has sound by way of an implanted device. Living experiences are also in some of the blog posts.
Words that make you call out Poo
It’s funny how I was believing that writing was a salvation from drowning or being destroyed by reality, and i haven’t had the ability to write anything or want to write anything for a while now.
Check the journal, you can see the rants haven’t been there — they’ve been snippets here and there, not much more. In some cases they’ve been a few paragraphs, but the substance? What has the substance been?
Words, feelings, worries, blah blah blah blah blah.
I’m in a rut, no thanks to life as I know it an my health making life shit for me. I’m in a rut even trying to do what I know I am capable of doing. Self doubt, maybe procrastination… they are both stifling what I used to covet.
And of course the lack of creativity right now… The lack of a market… The lack of some push from something or someone special…
I feel like I am oblivion incarnate, or perhaps the embodiment of what is wrong with this world. I need some time – or a vacation from my life, from myself… from my worries and doubts… Maybe I just nee d a trip to Euphoria again? Happiness seems like such a distant land, even though I can find contentment shooting the shit up with some of my friends.
Maybe that’s all I should be relying on now? The little help from my friends when my Friends need a little help from my humor? There’s got to be more to my life though — I couldn’t stay sane with just that alone…. Though I am edging insanity as is.
From bad to worse
Come on baby, gonna take a little ride
Down, down by the ocean side
Gonna get real close
Gonna get real tight
Come on babe, gonna drown tonight
Going down, down, down….
Things are real bad right now. Steadily getting worse. Through all this I want to talk with one person. I want to go back to the past with one person.
The past is dead though. If not by time, by actions of others. By words, by decisions. I can’t bring myself to try to bring up the past through the hurt and at the same time if I do it will only lead to more hurt. Not the comforting hand that I so dearly miss. And I know that the other side won’t make an attempt.
It’s my own shred of selfishness… but of course my shred doesn’t include pushing people away, avoiding, falsely accusing, falsely blaming, ignoring and the like.
And through all this, I still miss her. Or at least miss the memory of what she once was and what she’s trying to distance herself from.
Ow my back
I heard that you were feeling ill
Headache, fever, and a chill
I came to help restore your pluck
‘Cause I’m the nurse that likes to….
….talk? :tongue
Stir Crazy
I’m going insane. Slowly but surely, I am going insane.
You see, I’ve been without the ability to walk safely for several months now and I have been houseridden since September since I had surgery on my upper back. During that time my leg muscles have gotten stronger but alas — the nerves running to my legs have only gotten weaker and my balance has also suffered.
I live on the 2nd floor of a house that is anything but a place for a disabled person to live. I have the damnedest time getting up and down the stairs and it takes an effort. When I am downstairs, I either have to use a walker or I have to roll around in a wheelchair. This is a big departure for me, as I used to walk for miles just for the hell of it. Now I can’t bring myself to walk very well because my legs have given out on me.
So I’m forced to do up-and-down the stairs and around-the-house a few hundred times a day and that is the extent of me getting around, and it is driving me fucking insane. You are probably wondering “Why aren’t you going outside, John?” The answer to that question is because of the “stoop” that I have to get over to get out the door while wheelchair bound. Even WHEN I get out the door, sometimes I have my parents and brother carelessly parked so I can’t exit the walkway because their cars are in the way.
And when I get around the car? If I get around the car? Then it’s a matter of my own strength and my own determination to get down the block – which is a difficult task in a wheelchair when you have a hill that slants the sidewalk. I being a wheelchair novice, have the damnedest time trying to deal with that, and end up annoyed and just plain tired with pushing myself by the time I reach a certain point two or three houses away.
I am going oh so crazy. Six, five, four, three, two, one, switch.
(anyone remember Sharon, Lois and Bram? :tongue)
SO up and down and around and around and around the first floor is my flight plan if anything and even THEN — staying inside — I have too many things in my way or making it tough for me to get around — tables positioned a certain way, chairs in the way, my mothers sandals kicked out in the open, end tables, etc, etc, etc.
This house is no place for a disabled person and this thing that some woudl argue is a life, is not worth living right now. Purpose escapes me, the simple refuge of gettin gaway also escapes me. How I lust for the past… Walking for miles just for the hell of it seems so long ago. The shopping centers where I would go seem so far away now… So far away when you just can’t get out there on your own….
Failures
The weekend with my legs totally sucked. I had hurt my ankle on Friday and didn’t know how bad it was until Saturday when I couldn’t walk on it any more. On Sunday I was confined to my room and only able to get up and around again on Monday.
Things seem a lot better today – Tuesday — but Bob, my physical therapist, is telling me that the tumor is really fucking up the works for me and I need to have that removed one way or another.
Yes, I know this — I know it quite well. The problem is the consequences of surgery which is making me delay any decision.
You see, I live at home still because of my medical condition and that house happens to be 2 stories. My friends know this, but for some of my other readers who have been on the site lately, I know you don’t.. This tumor that is screwing up my legs — when it’s removed, may cost my use of my legs, period. That presents a problem for me because my house is not disabled friendly and my parents plan post-op doesn’t work. They want to change the den and laundry room into an apartment (no windows mind you ) for my disabled ass. When I talk about finding an alternative – they seem to think I am bullshitting. I do NOT want to continue living in this house, I do not want to live in a sarcophagus and have it defined as a room. I can’t LEAVE the house when I am in a wheelchair right now because of quirks around the house that make it tough for a wheelchair bound person to move around and get out. I can’t get around the house when I am in a wheelchair because of halls not being wide enough and what not.
And they want me to stay because it’s the simplest answer for them – do something that makes their lives easier while I suffer. “Just as long as you don’t interrupt us smoking our cigarettes and playing our computer games and watching our sitcoms, everything will be fine.” :sad
That’s not the truth – the last few months have proven that not to entirely be the truth but at the same time, it’s a long standing truth that shows up at one point or another. I think accepting their solution is just along the lines of this — “Don’t second guess us — take what we give you and don’t give us grief….even if our solution gives you grief.”
:sad
Abilities
Some people in the world will never have to experience the nuisance of a muscle pull or will barely notice it. Others will never have to go through the aches of a broken limb and the difficulties that transpire because of it. Some will never meet someone with Downs Syndrome in person or perchance will never see someone who is wheelchair bound – if you can believe that.
Some people will go through life never having limped around for weeks because of a sprained ankle. Some people will never know how demoralizing it is to go through the world in a wheelchair when certain places in the world do not consider you a person. Some people will never know how it feels to have muscles fail on you not from exertion but because of injury…
Some will go most of there lives without being in the hospital for more than a couple of hours to see a birth. While others won’t even comprehend or try to understand the limitations that people have and the difficulties these people have going through life.
Blind. Deaf. Amputee. Arthritis. Those are just some basic things that can limit someone…
The whole catch to this is trying to understand these people and the problems they face. Most of you — and I am assuming about the reader base — will never have to know some of these problems and I’m glad to know it. Others know it full well. Some can comprehend, some can’t. Some won’t even try and I pity them…. Others think they know it but demoralize in there attempts to help.
Here’s hoping you never have to go through some of the shit I am right now — struggling to do basic things, struggling to make my life feel normal (which it isn’t). Here’s hoping you can comprehend the difficulties that others face… And that you’ll know how to act (and not avoid, or look away) when faced with problems from others or even yourself.
It always gets worse before it gets better
Just when I thought things were getting better with me – emotionally at least — I get hit hard with things again.
I hate being right. I hate being considered a know-it-all and dismissed. I hate being brushed off and having to live with the consequences of their decisions.
I’m being obtuse in my explanation what is going on — I was just right when it came to what tumor is causing problems with my legs and if I have the tumor operated on, I would possibly be made wheelchair bound… Not knowing how long or if at all I would ever recover and get out of it.
I thought of some of the dreams I had in the past – some I have shared with others and I realize they are gone — they only exist in my mind and the only place I can live them is in my mind… I don’t know if anyone reading this can comprehend what it feels like to be told by friends not to be negative but have your entire future white washed… Or be told that your life is ahead of you and not know the truth to that statement…
I don’t want pity, but at the same time I don’t want to feel alone even though those around me insist I am not alone — and that they are pulling for me. I know my friends care, I know that my family cares… but at the same time, there’s this void in my soul — something deep down — that exists. It’s the peace I had once in my life, one that I can fill temporarily by getting my mind off things (the writing and my last post on the journal is a good example)… but at the same time, there is only one true escape and one true way to get around this fortress of solitude and it’s looking increasingly impossible that life will afford me this.
Bad shape day
Today I got to know how bad I am right now. I got to see my body operating on it’s own without many things to save me.
I’ve fallen, tripped, drugged myself too much, or too little – take yoru pick. I’ve let my sorrows get me to nit-pick issues I shouldn’t and torture myself because of doing so… I’ve been with a therapist, I’ve been with a nurse… I’ve been no where and everywhere in the house all at one time.
I’ve seen the TV and seen I don’t want to watch anything on there. I’ve looked online and seen there’s only one person right now that I need and if circumstances were different – it wouldn’t be online need – it be a tangible need.
There are so many things I need to get to doing but right now I really should just take it easy and fart around – I am allowed. There so many things I want to do and can’t… so many things that I can do but won’t bring myself to do…
You’re allowed, John, to take a few days off. Or at least you might be…
Anecdotes from a hospital-based boytoy
Ah, the journal… Now if only I could start writing like a human being again. I’ve found out that I am typing mistakes more often and using incomplete sentences more often because I’ve been stuck on the T900 pager the last week and keeping things tied into my friends online through that.
There’s so much I can say here and so much I want to say – stuff still going on and stuff that I want to talk about to specific people but the time isn’t right.
My hospital stay started with a bang – well not really, it was more like an “Oh shit!” when I forced myself to look at the clock besides my bed and see that it was 6 Am. I was due at the hospital at 5:45… Crap. I jumped, got dressed and got the hell out of dodge… Didn’t get tied up in traffic and actually got to the Hospital before my scheduled operation time… Not just that, was only a few minutes late going into the OR.
Was it scary? Going under the knife is always scary but it wasn’t scary like last year. There was something still sitting with me that was scarier and I was trying to accept things as moving on because of it. O course, waking up and having a mask put on me again didn’t make me feel comfortable either but then again – blacking out and waking up in post-op was about what I expected next.
Though I did dream. Of what, I don’t recall, but I am certain I dreamt this time I was under. I don’t usually dream. Last time I dreamt anything, it was of green clouds during my first operation.
ANYWAY, I wake up in the Post-op/recovery center and I’m watching the clock, of all things, because I was hoping to catch someone on a TV Talk show at 12:30. Of course it’s around 2 at the time and my priorities are out of whack but then again – I guess this also showed my confidence now. Oh sure, I was in pain, I was in a neck brace, and I had little movement in my legs (Muscle relaxants) but I was ready to start recovery.
I’ll tell more soon, other things take precedence now – like sleep.
Famous last words
A stoned out, paranoid Russell Hammond preaches to writer William Miller from the top of a house… “And you can tell Rolling Stone magazine that my last words were… I’m on drugs!!!!” The party crowd at said house roars in wild response.
William says, “Russell! I think we should work on those last words!”
“I got it, I got it. Last words… Last words… Ok…. I dig music…? ” (ganders at the audience who nod in disappointed acceptance)
…..
“I’m on drugs!!!! ” — the crowd explodes in a drunken, drugged out euphoria and Russell Hammond, lead singer of Stillwater, plunges to a watery grave (OK, he just sunk to the bottom of the pool)…
Something tells me this entry is a far less dramatic departure from the scene… And I don’t think this is a said “departure,” much like a didn’t think the music was over or the book finished in other instances of my life, and that has proved true in one fashion or another. It’s just putting off for a while and then resuming the music with a different beat, a different subject in the next chapter of the novel…
So, with that in mind and the fact I am being JUST a little too strange in my departing words, I turn the reigns over for the meantime to someone that i have both lauded, melted over and maligned in this journal in one way or another before — Sarah.
I’ve been told I’ll be back in 3 days time, well — three days after surgery. Saturday or Sunday. Sarah’s going to try to hold the fort down but then again, this is her first foray into blogging from what i know… Likely she will show herself to be a damn sight better than I am in my whiny, ranty form… And more ENTERTAINING to boot, perchance?
Take care folks, see you when the next endeavor presents itself…
T-Minus hours, minutes, seconds
Spent the morning / early afternoon at the hospital with Pre-op stuff. It’s funny how easy it is to choke on something when you don’t chew it — or how painful it can be when you have difficulty continuing to swallow what you are choking on…
I also have something sorta freaking me out that I’ve been thinking about since Bill reminded me of it this weekend — last year, when I had my neck operation, it would seem that everyone downstairs knew just who I was when Bill asked where I happened to be. Am I more famous at the hospital than I know? A celebrity that doesn’t pull in a paparazzi of my own? Mayhap. Then again, it could have just been on steaming pile of coincidence, hold the cream cheese.
Meanwhile, my Spectra 22 is on the fritz. For those of you who have no clue what I’m talking about, it’s the device I use with the ABI in my head to let me hear. It’s been down since this weekend and proving to be a pain in the ass to get it fixed.
Hmmphf, figures.
On a less personal note — the GAO issued a report that Dick Cheney covered up corruption in the Bush administration Energy policy. My only reaction to that is, “Well, Duh!”
And I believe I do have a guest writer for Der Stonegauge while I am away… I’ll touch on that later on, hopefully.
Downed
T minus a day and a matter of hours.
I ranted to a few people today about how I am right now and I really came to the clear realization I don’t like focusing on myself. I mean, I’ve been called selfish when I’m being a pain in the ass but I’m high strung with certain things — picky-choosy. That’s not being selfish. Being selfish is doling out one’s life over and over again and making yourself the subject of items. I don’t like to do that when I have bad news to share, I’d rather share the positives and we all know things aren’t exactly positive for me right now. Then again, i can share my negatives when I know I’m truly SHARING with someone and it isn’t just a casual relationship.
I also need something to prop me up, I guess, emotionally. Fluff my ego and all that. Friends have wanted to help me out if they can but there’s not much one can do to help. Some have said “I wish I could take away your problems” — that’s likewise. Others can just agree that things suck right now and get brash on the fact I’m down… While others ignore it, maybe it’ll go away?
A venerable cornucopia of reactions to a NF2 patient who’s about to have an operation on his spine.
In other news, I forgot to tell you all that Lou got back to me with lesson four and….
Loved it!
Oh, yeah, I still need to work on things. For all of my reviewing of the story (previously published on this site, “Thank god for Arthur” and my editing down of the story, it still had a few flaws, but it really came out good. I need to be more clear with italics (I tried a technique some authors use with italicizing personal thoughts, which was a no no),and get more comfortable with dialogue (I’m actually comfortable with it, it’s grammar around dialogue and quotes that I need to work on) but all in all…
“Mavelous, dahling!”
Any requests to see the finished product?
Coming to a head
C7 / T1 is not the tumor that is causing my legs to be weak, it’s not the tumor causing my sensation loss among other things.
It is, however, the tumor Dr. Smith wants to operate on, which would likely put me in dire straights afterwords because I wouldn’t be getting up out of bed — I’d be sitting in a wheelchair, unable to walk because my legs are so weak (and likely more).
The reaction I get from people is mixed — some want me to nuck-the-fuck-up, as I like to put it… Others don’t listen to me, while others can’t comprehend. My mom admittedly puts off problems — that’s how this got that far out of control to begin with, putting off and putting off and putting off. I’m so fucking SICK of putting off, and yet part of me wants to PUT OFF going after this upper back tumor in order to go after the one that causing the problems I am having in my lower portion of my body.
“But for fucks sake” I can repeat all the negatives only so much while wanting something to happen and unfortunately nothing gets done.
I made mention above about my mom telling me she puts off — she also asked in that conversation if I want to move out and never got a straight answer from me. I told her I can’t afford to, that I don’t have the money to pay for it and what not… I didn’t tell her the obvious though, “Yes I want to move out. Yes I want to be on my own, have my own place, call my own shots and all that jazz which I haven’t been able to do since things started going downhill.”
**sigh**
Internet Boogie
So anyway….
I’ve been finishing going over assignment 4 and I actually killed off the happy-ending for the sake of the plot twist. Not so much a plot twist but a more realistic ending. If I had 2500 words or more, I probably would have further gone into things but alas – 2000 words is the limit and I’ll stay under it, thank you very much.
Meanwhile, I’ve been over at Blog for America and doing my regular political shuffle over at Kill the Web the past few days… Pretty often in fact… All of this and I’ve also been over at DeanFilter.com trying to add news bits here and there. I could use some help to be honest, because I don’t think I’m keeping things news-worthy….
Then again, I could also invest more time in this stuff… I proposed to Toe that it would be beneficial if I started coming up with some heavy political satire to go along with his outrageous and much loved/detested Gwbush04.com web site. I mean, just LOOK at this beautiful stuff he’s writing on his own…
Makes you wanna join the party, don’t it??
At any rate, I need to get my shit together and send out assignment 4… Also calling Doctor Smith’s office is going to be a necessity if I can’t find out some details about surgery or get in touch over the web…
TKO
A technical knockout or a TKO is when a fighter is knocked down three times during a fight (or some other specified number).
Three times. Three times. Down and out three times.
I’ve talked briefly in past entries about my balance being bad – partly thrown off because of my legs, partly because of stuff I don’t know… In the past 24 hours I’ve fallen — and fallen hard – three times because of balance SNAFU’s.
I don’t know, I just don’t know any more. It’d be nice for someone to comprehend how difficult things are for me right now. It’d also be nice to be able to contact my doctor and discuss things more with him… But I don’t see him (and maybe not at all) until 2 days before the operation.
And I’m sorta scared because there’s just too much of the great unknown laying before me. It’s not the unknown I fear as-so-much not knowing what the deal is going to be before hand. I can play things on the fly – but as far as I know I could end up in rehab for an unspecified period of time after this.
BTW – I am done with 24 season 1…
Dejà-VooDoo than I Do
DejÃ-Vu.
Very, very dejÃ-vu…
See, about a year ago I had some things happening to me that made life a big worry… A worry much bigger than your day to day but not so incomprehensible that you would think I’m an alien or something like that (though the Men In Black would argue that)… It’s just something that hung over me much like a new job, moving, or some other great unknown worry would have this feeling of heaviness over you. There’s anxiousness and anxiety to go along with it and a question of just where this will take you.
That was a year ago and I’m repeating it this year.
Yep, John’s got a scheduled date for surgery now – Wednesday, August 20th at Tampa General Hospital. Pre-op on Monday the 18th. I’m thinking of other odd things going on — Bill’s sister is due to have her 2nd kid about that time and — it’s SO STRANGE because that is what happened last year while I was in the hospital.
Very strange, very deja-vu.
Of course this year I won’t be writing to anyone on the pager, telling them soemthing I should have told them the night before I had the operation…
…Nor do I think I’m going to be out of the hospital in 3 days. Hell, I don’t even know if I will be back to walking anytime soon after surgery. I’ve talked about my legs being weak as is right now – I got to imagine if everything goes fine I’m still going to have weak legs and on top of it I might have to “learn” how to use them again.
I don’t know if I will need rehab or what… I don’t know if I should be looking intot he ibot or the Segway because of future lack of mobility… (then again, I want to look into the Segway no matter what so that whole point is moot).
At any rate, after a night off from the computer, I’m writing again with another story… Maybe assignment 4, I didn’t look at the assignment as much yet but I’m writing with constraints just because. Sort of good story but I think it’s been done before…
Also, Melanie will be glad to hear that John got disc 5 of 24 season 1 in the mail. I may very well have that watched by the end of the day… God I love that fucking show
Bad-Legged-Freaks
So it’s late night Saturday (early Sunday, bloody, Sunday morning) and I’m losing myself in my writing again as I have at times of the past few months.
Ahh, the comfort in text – now if it was only worth reading… and if there was only proof people read this stuff (hint hint — click the comment link below and leave a comment about any given entry).
I used most of my day for writing and for 24, disc 4 (It is now 4 PM on the day of the California Presidential Primary) but I had a little incident this afternoon that re-inforced the scary part of my life…
My right leg gave out on me – twice.
I bent down to pet my cat, Smokey — hunkered down — and the leg had no strength in it (at the thigh). I struggled to get my balance and to not fall on my ass or whatever…
OK, maybe it was three times… I remember trying to get up from a chair and it giving out on me again… along with one other instance of leg weakness.
Monday I’m going to learn the date of snip-snip (surgery) and I hope I get to speak to Doc Smith before then.
Sleep time is near… must go… must go… zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Survival of the Fittest
Well, the good news is I am not dead yet.
…
No, no… it’s not that bad, I’m just tired right now and not thinking straight for the most part. I got to Bartels office at 11, waited till about 1 to see him, you can imagine how much fun that was. And my appointment didn’t last more than 10 minutes… I mean, I like the guy, he’s someone that you got to respect and trust, but jebus, Doctor Bartels, hire another doctor to share the load with yourself… There were people in there that waited just as long or longer than I did to see him and it’s just sorta sad.
So what IS the verdict anyway?
I’m honestly not exactly sure, though I should have been more forward in finding out what was up though Doc was pretty certain that it wasn’t tumors in my head doing everything that was wrong with me. The tumor that is causing my leg weakness is also helping throw off my balance from what I was told…
Great, perfect, juuuuuuuuust perfect…
But it’s not as grim as I saw it just a week ago, that’s good. Not going to be pleasant though with whatever the next step is – that’s bad.
Anyway, in other news I’m getting attached to another Howard Dean support site by my web-friend Chris who runs the satire extremes George Bush for President ’04 (or W04), Red Tide News, and of course the social blog Kill the Web which I regularly contribute to over there (but too often in a political form and not just social stuff and pop culture mumbo jumbo that could easily be bloggered). This new site (deanfilter) goes on top of my message board for the local dean activists who haven’t yet entirely flocked to my humble web site.
(Insolent peons! You will love me and bow down to me and flock to my site or I’ll… I’ll… um… Hold on, it’ll come to me… Ok, I’ll do nothing except bitch and moan. What else do I do anyway? :-p )
Top of the day entry
Seeing how it’s almost 10 AM I thought I would start the day off with a journal entry. I’m seeing Dr. Bartels inside 2 hours and I’m going to be talking turkey with medical stuff.
Ah, and to clarify something I said yesterday: I’ve been dealing with a story that I’ve written off-and-on the past few weeks right now. It’s going ok but I don’t know when I’ll close the story up or what I’ll do to close the story up for that matter. If I just keep going with it — and i don’t know how I can, I had one idea ironed out and I’ve gotten through that idea with 14 manuscript pages — I’ll find a closing spot… but right now as it stands it’s going to be a much more difficult thing to do for me than I would like it to be.
But that’s writing for you – it’s not always a joy… yet immersing yourself in writing and concentrating on it gives you escape from the world.
Johnny's Screwed
Finally
I get some help after bitching about falling forward.
I turn out
the lights and I fall forward. I cover up my eyes while I am free standing and
I fall forward. I pull off my shirt and I fall forward or backward.
My leg may
not have "given out". I may have suffered a falling-forward spell.
Last night
I had another loss of balance with the lights off — I’ve dealt with them on
and off since 1997 and this time something happened that scared me — after
grabbing a hold of something and steadying myself (the doorframe to the bathroom)
I felt a jarring in my head. You see, every time I upset a benign tumor somewhere
in my body, I end up getting a bit of a jarring sensation from it. This time
it came from my head.
It pissed
me off and upset me greatly because I was willing to deal with this back in
APRIL, let alone wait, and wait, and wait, and wait, and wait. My parents encouraged
me to wait with money and other things becoming a factor.
Now my back
is taking away sensation from my legs. My head gives me aches and has thrown
my balance off. My motor skills (my legs) are awkward at best. Things are deteriorating.
After everything
happened last night I sat down and I actually started sobbing to myself because
I felt walled in. If I told my parents about it they may very well do the putting
off again. "But the doctor said…" — The doctor said MONTHS ago!
MONTHS ago for Christ sake and I’m falling apart right in front of you! That’s
how it’s always felt with my family – I made a case for something with me, they
downplayed it or played ‘ignore it, maybe it will go away."
That’s just
another reason why I get pissed when people put off (or when I procrastinate
and put off) — you let things sit and feaster they get worse. Not better.
So after
I sobbed to myself I wrote my father an email (because it was something like
1:30 in the morning) before sitting down to read The Gunslinger (edited
version which wasn’t as good as the original)] telling him that we can’t keep
putting off and that something has to be done.
I got up
this morning and presto – he told me I had an MRI Wednesday at 1 (tomorrow where
I sit) and see Dr.
Bartels ont he 25th. I just wanted to say "What took you so fucking
long?" but that would have been pushing my luck. I honestly would have
dealt with this in the spring instead of letting myself rot as I’ve been forced
to. I can’t walk well, I couldn’t run for a while (and I blamed it all on the
back stuff — HA! I knew better!). I can’t stand or keep my balance and I get
headaches as well as other minor things… And yet everyone can put off because
it’s John and he bitches and whines like that.
In other
news I edited Assignment 2 from Der
Long Ridge though I may have already mentioned that in a recent journal
entry. It comes off a bit stiff still but it’s hard to present charisma in under
1000 words. It’s also not the most flattering piece but at the same time —
it really demonstrates the perception of knowing something and wanting something
and then realizing you can’t have it even though circumstances present themselves
that give you that perception.
Doctor, Doctor
I’m not feeling great again
today, and I’m blaming it partly on the antihistamine I took last night to deal
with sinus pressure. I want to know WTF is wrong with me… And what would be
easier, putting
me out of my misery or giving me a cure?
Speaking of doctors, and
I really feel weird about the cure-or-kill comment because someone who worked
to cure was killed. It happens more often than people will acknowledge or can
acknowledge and it’s strange that I’m making a big deal about this… There
is a doctor who I have never met – or if I met him it was seven years ago…
His name was Dr. Cahill.
Why am I bringing him up?
Well, my leg gave out in June as my constant readers on this site will know…
We called my doctor’s office about it to report what was going on and they said
that if things get worse – go to the ER because Doctor Cahill was attending
that given night. And there’s more to it than that simple coincidence, I’ve
known him by name for years because he shares office space with Doctor Smith.
I probably have passed him in the hall after an appointment or something like
that.. I was just really surprised this happened. Also the fact that I’m going
to be there on Monday is going to be super strange. I don’t know if Doctor Smith
is going to have to carry a bigger load (taking his appointments) or what the
deal will be, I’m curious about that.
Oh, by the way, I actually
did get some of my non-fiction assignment done after my bellyaching in yesterday’s
journal entry. It’s still not complete or how I’d like it but it came out a
little better after I got into my gear writing by typing out that journal entry.
Ironic, ain’t it?
The Knife
This is probably my last entry for the time being. I’ve got to get some sleep tonight and I need to / want to talk to some people before I leave tomorrow and I would be more likely to stick around talking to them than tap-tappity-tap-tap the keyboard and write out a journal entry on this web site.
I published contact/feedback information for Sony Music on the Fab 4 Lyrics section of the site. If you’re pissed that they are pulling this shit (threatening over lyrics being published on the web) — TELL THEM. Make sure you tell them it’s in regards to Beatlelyrics.com
I got a haircut today and lets just say the guy who appears in the Stonegauge logo above does not look much like me right now. For those of you who saw my picture in the St. Pete Times from the 1st article about the situation that arose with Beatlelyrics.com – I can say that my long locks in that photo are gone as well.
I spent most of the morning pinning about politics…. I really continue to despise George W. Bush and feel half of what I’ve gone through is helped along because of his administration is so pro-corporate… I also feel the US is guilty of Terrorism with their threat on Iraq… Sure Iraq poses a threat with biological weapons or other stuff — but SO DO WE! So does GREAT BRITAIN, so do other countries that are our allies but we aren’t going to bomb them and invade. We aren’t about to oust the government in Saudi Arabia even though they support terrorism. Hell, we sponsor terror by allowing Saudi Arabia to remain our ally and continue to have unrestricted access to the US. How many of September 11th’s hijackers were from SA? Where is Osama Bin Laden from? It’s bullshit.
I want Bush out of office so bad…. I look and ask are we better off than we were 2 years ago and I gag at the thought… Economics are skewerd, corporations rule, the environment means little to Dubya and some of our freedoms are being taken away by the Attorney General who is a far-right-wing thinker. Why don’t they just burn the Bill of Rights, declare the Bush family the first monarchy of dictatorship and throw all liberals (like myself) in jail who might question the President. How many times have I heard that I am in the wrong for questioning the president because we are at war? Should I be intimidated like that? No sir…. ESPECIALLY seeing the president’s Administration is doing objectionable stuff.
Oh well, just about 13 hours before I need to be up and ready to go… 🙁 I’ll hopefully get to leave you another comment in this journal soon….
