It can be somewhat amusing when someone attempts to turn the table on me. It doesn't usually work out for them, because they're playing by house rules, and it's my house. My house hasn't been doing so well the past couple of months. I kept my VA appointment with Doctor Aung this morning and things are looking up. I really trust her judgment. I told her about how I wanted to feel better when I go to Seattle and see my ex-wife, children, and grandchild for the first time since 1982. She told me not to worry about it, that by Monday I'd feel like my old self if not better, and it I had these problems again, she'd fix them again.
She had her nurse shoot me up with pain-killers and steroids, ordered x-rays on my shoulder and had them x-ray my chest to check and see if my stopping smoking made any difference. Her eyes literally lit up when I told her I'd stopped smoking last October. She ordered a complete blood work up that was so thorough, the new girl in the blood lab who stabbed me 4 times before she gave up and got a more experienced worker to get my blood, commented on how many tests the doctor had ordered.
My trip to the x-ray department was interesting. I've never been x-rayed so many times at so many angles in my life. Eventually I realized that I might be getting radiation treatments along with her taking x-rays of the bones. I guess they didn't think I needed to know anything more than I was getting a chest x-ray. No blame. I kinda figure Doctor Aung was looking out for me. I couldn't not know what they were doing after I have written so often recently about using scarification techniques to cause the body to heal itself.
I had to lift my arms above my head for one series of x-rays. I couldn't do it. The technician had a rack she mounted and helped me reach up to grab it. It really hurt to do that, but I tolerated it knowing that it was gonna hurt a lot worse to let go of the stabilizer bar and drop my arms down. I can't describe how painful that was. Certainly the worst spasm of pain I can consciously remember. She had to stop taking x-rays until I stopped sobbing. I couldn't stay still long enough for her to take the picture.
I took two of the Prednisone tablets after the injections and drove home. It was a long drive. I'd had tiny little holes punched through my x-rayed body perhaps dozens of times. It was the same weariness as after a high dose of shit welding in the nuclear plant. I had 7-8 needle holes stuck in my body complete with cotton swabs taped over them. The medicine takes a while to work. I'm still hurting in the deep places, but some of the peripheral pain is dissipating. I know things are gonna get better soon, and that's encouraging, but not yet. Manana? Yeah, maybe manana.
I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
