Last week has been bad. I don’t want to whine about ailments and so starting today I’m not going too, though I haven’t whined to y’all at all. Knee, bad knee ju-ju, some kind of inflammation and I don’t really have all the cartlige in there, perhaps none of it. I don’t trust the doctors around here. Wait, I don’t mean that like it sounds, my doc in Oregon would pretty much do as I asked (e.g. least intrusive and least expensive) that’s not really indicative of Oregon medicine.
Everything is tied into everything else here, there are very few private clinics and they are protective and paranoid of their autonomy. I can’t really go into an office here and just ask for, say, a shot of cortisone in the knee to give me time to strengthen it. So, I’m done with resting it and going to do it the hard way. And, god willing and the puddin’ ain’t swold, they’ll be nothing to whine about.
I’m not really afraid of pain, given the other other alternative (the one that ain’t pleasure) I prefer pain — it’s numbness or weakness that disturbs the hell out of me. Shit is supposed to hurt, it’s not supposed to be numb. Get that fucking Pink Floyd song out of your head.
My mother and I have invites to Oregon and Tennessee and Florida for the holidays. I don’t see how my mom can do it — I mean so that it would be enjoyable and retain some dignity. I don’t know.
Like the knee, this journal, when resting, loses all momentum.
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