A Few Updates...

I know why the caged bird has a severe drinking problem...



So, some of you might have noticed that the Kid has been off the radar for a month or so. There's a reason for that. Remember my spinal episode, and how we all had that grass roots movement to get my back fixed?

Well, as of last week, I discovered that there was NEVER a plan to actually "get me on the table", as they say. In fact, they don't feel as if I have a problem big enough for their attention.

I went into the spinal clinic last week, the one that I've been going to for the past year now, armed to the teeth with knowledge and experience: I've done the spinal injections (painful), I've done the physical therapy (painful useless and humiliating) and I've jumped through every red tape hoop the doctors instructed me to, all in the good faith that, eventually, they were going to do the fucking surgery that removes the cancer from my spine and allows me to walk again.

So I go in last week, and I notice right away that the doctor has my MRI chart on the board. "Awesome!" I think, "We're finally taking this show to Broadway!"

Let it be known here and now that I, sometimes, can be a bit dense when it comes to reality.

The doctor looks me over, does this test, does that test, hems and haws for about 20 minutes, and finally says "I want you to go to this special seminar for people with back pain. They will teach you how to lift better and work without straining your back too much."

SAY WHAT?!?!

The following is the actual conversation, verbatim:

Bobbe: "Umm - Dr. Fucktard, excuse me, but why would I go to a seminar for something that isn't relevant to my case? I mean, I would think this seminar thing would be more for people with a functioning spine, not an injured one."

Worthless Quack Who Loves to Waste My Fucking Time: "Well Bobbe, I see people like you every day, and I believe that most of what you're feeling is probably psychological."

Bobbe: "Psychologic - You think it's in my MIND? So, in your opinion, the human mind is located somewhere between the L4 and L5 spine? Because that's where the goddam pain is."

Doctor Fuckroast: "Well, you have to understand - As far as I can tell, your brain still works. That means you're not debilitated. I can't sign off on a surgery that you don't need."

Bobbe (losing his very limited patience): Are you saying that I would have to be paralyzed AND comatose before you could pull this malignant growth coupled with bone matter out of my spine? Tell me, doctor, do you have some sort of repayment plan for the year away from work I just lost, and also something that will repair the damage done to my marriage from all the stress this caused? Also, what's the hospital policy on actually returning lost time from life to people you make tread water like this?"

Note: I do realize that this was probably the wrong thing to say, but I couldn't stop myself. If I could move better, the doctor would be having a difficult time spelling his own first name right now, and they'd be prepping him for brain surgery. Unfortunately, I didn't act on my first impulse.

The doctor stuttered a bit longer about having his hands tied, and how he couldn't do anything more to help me. I had a few more choice things to say, but my wife was standing there, and she has a way of bringing things into perspective for me at times like this. You can't continue in this direction I thought, anger won't get you anything but thrown out of the hospital. You cannot afford another blowup right now.

I hope that all of you out there reading this have someone that brings you back to reality the way my wife does me - I've said it before on this blog and I'll say it again: She's too good for me. So I left the hospital with the realization that they weren't going to do a damn thing to save me...So I have decided to save myself. I'm looking into places that will do the surgery, no questions asked. Turns out there are quite a few, some expensive, some not. I'm getting quotes now, and I don't care if I have to knock over a liquor store to get the money. One way or another, I'm getting cut this year.

I've had it with this shit.

I Suppose I Owe Him This

J.D. Salinger snuffed it. Checked out, as they say. Passed on. Caught the midnight train to Georgia, if not the express train heading to literary infamy. It's a poor man who speaks ill of the dead, so I'll refrain from too much of a rant. My thoughts on his book "Catcher in the Rye" are well publicized, and judging from the amount of mail I receive to this day, I would lay heavy odds that I don't stand alone in my opinions.

But I was thinking - I might really have it wrong. After all this time, the distance between two generations gets longer and more uncrossable every time a new one arises. For instance, my halcyon days would have been in the mid-80's, no argument there. I remember when Duran Duran was the biggest thing on the charts. One of my closest friends remembers hearing about a group called Duran Duran, on a VH1 "Where Are They Now?" special. This puts Salinger into perspective for me, at least a little bit.

Parting Shot:

I met someone recently who was spouting racist rhetoric like she marched with Dr. King himself...And she's at the ripe old age of 22.

I think anyone born after 1985 has absolutely no reason to say "I hate whitey". If you don't remember the civil rights movement, or the decade of moral retardation that was the 70's, all you're doing is parroting the echo of some distant revolutionary who, in this day and age, would be more concerned with feeding the homeless as opposed to "bringing down de white debbil". (Naysayers, feel free to look up Bobby Seale before you spout off your mouth. I'm not as embracing of stupidity as I used to be.)

That's it for now. I won't rant so much on the next post...Or keep you waiting so long for one. See you guys next week.