substitute

So my shoulder hurts, and I went to the doctor. And we tried a couple things and they didn't work. So he sent me to the MAN! Super-neurologist. Pain specialist. That guy was indeed a skilled and professional physician. He tried a very special thing and it didn't work.

So then the MAN said that there was a higher, more esoteric, almost hermetic knowledge held by one whose feet he was not worthy to clean, and sent me to him, with the warning "it can take a while." Since the MAN himself was hard to see, I was full of the fear of this sage's appointment queue, and today I nerved myself up to call.

September 22. (Forty years in the desert.) I made the appointment. I also made a "start over" appointment with my humble yet proficient physician, and let the MAN know how high the peak and how covered in mist, and the terrible length of the journey.

My brother told me to get tested for the autoimmune problem that has made his life hell. Hey, why not?

I'm still a little upset that the nature of my ailment makes mall shooting sprees difficult. I could shoot lefty but I hate brass in my teeth, and I can't even use a machete too well without my right hand. I guess I'll have to go amok slapping people, or kicking them like the Black Night in Holy Grail.. Suck.

But the good news is that "Allergan is processing your injection."

It's a sad old world when that chunk of doublespeak is good news, I gotta say.

If the Medical Establishment doesn't get its ass in gear by about, oh, noon tomorrow and deal with my problem I am going to carry out the first completely left-handed mass murder in history. Currently I have had no useful help from my "primary" internal medicine physician, a physical therapy clinic, a neurologist, and a pharmacy. My best improvements have come from Home Science investigating my shoulder and what makes it feel better. I have, I think, successfully diagnosed a rotator cuff inflammation or tear. If they'd just fucking tell me whether it's a tear or not I'd write them a check.

Last week the neurologist, who is currently "investigating" me and ordered the MRI, was out of town. No one told me this and I was leaving increasingly testy messages on his scheduler's voicemail. She didn't call me back. Finally I called the internal medicine office, because he'd said: If they don't call back, don't worry. The doctor is great but the office is a nightmare. Call me. Two minutes after that call, the schedule for the neurologist called me back. Why is this all being done Soviet style?

Currently I am self-medicating with alcohol. Yes, I know that's stupid. Tomorrow I shall explain to any doctor who answers or returns my calls that I am sliding into Under the Volcano and I need either medically approved relief or a plan for fixing the problem: preferably necessarily both.

Otherwise I will show up wild-eyed and unshaven at the emergency room demanding some combination of opiates, steroids, acupuncture, inaccupuncture. sodomy, and surgery. I've had it! So, it'll be fixed I'm sure.

Finally I'd like to say that I have only been reading back a screen or so a day of the LJ because after I've done work and blathered my own posts and had 8.9 margaritas and hugged the cat I still can't do that much web browsing without flailing and moaning in pain. Yes, that's self-pity. Yes, it's for real.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: bodies are overrated.

My shoulder is trashed. It really hurts, just about all the time. Doctor on Friday. I feel like an idiot for not going weeks ago when it wasn't that bad. I hope I don't have double secret rotator cuff explosion requiring Civil War surgery with a saw.

I have a bad habit of doing the boiled frog and making something like this normal until I suddenly realize that it's very abnormal. In this case I was feeling a bit nauseated from pain and unable to find a comfortable position ever before I called the doctor. Doh.

Ow ow, OW.