No! No more of that! My head is spinning. We will now return to our regularly scheduled program of whining, ranting, and divulging lurid details of my relationship with a certain sea-faring scallawag. And photos of hamsters. (Natch.)
So first up, whining:
My back hurts. It hurts a lot. I'm sick of it hurting, I'm sick of not being active and athletic and ass-kicking, of feeling weak and useless and helpless, and I'm rapidly losing confidence in my therapist. This sux.
And now a bit of ranting:
The medical care at the hospital in my hometown is SHIT. My father went in for a "routine procedure" on Monday. By the evening he was in extreme pain, so the nursing staff decided to do a follow-up procedure which, while being utterly agonizing, was supposed to ultimately relieve the original pain. Did it? Did it fuck. After doing the agonizing procedure THREE times, THEN they decided to do an ultrasound to see what was causing the pain, and lo! it wasn't the thing they thought it was, so the Hat-Trick of Agony was completely unnecessary from the beginning! Awful fucking hospital. He's home now, and with mom looking after him instead of supposed trained
A few lurid details:
Sorry, Hannah; I havn't seen the Pirate since last week. He's got something up his sleeve for saturday, though (actually cancelled a cricket match to spend the day with me), so I should have some juicy tidbits for you next Monday.
And finally:
There. Are we all happy now???
Oh, one more thing. Today is April 18th, aniversary of the start of the American Revolution and Paul Revere's famous ride. Henry Wadsworth Longellow wrote a poem about it, and every year on the 18th of April mom and I phone each other and recite the poem. It's a good poem. I can't phone you and recite it for you, but here's a link: http://poetry.eserver.org/paul-revere.html
Oh, and one more thing (said Colombo): I am the number one hit on Google if you search for the phrase "Cambridge fitties." Go on, try it. You know you want to.
