Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Why is there a fork in my ass?

Well, nothing like finding out the desk (or a certain person on it) is talking smack about me.

I’d explain the context if I didn’t think it would bust out the person who told me anything was said, but I will say this: I may eat, breathe and shit the paper as my full-time gig, but technically I don’t work for it anymore. Therefore, I don’t have any sort of power to decide to scratch any story at my capricious whims. As such, if I’ve covered something that I don’t think merits space, I call the person in charge and run it by them; if they agree, I don’t file, and if they don’t, I pull something out of my ass.

Jerk-off.

Anyway.

I had hoped a mid-afternoon shower and once-over with the loofah would be enough to restore my will to live, but alas, it wasn’t. My last two days have been spent hauling Mother around to her first two tests, the endoscopy and, because the doctor discovered her duodenum is narrow, an Upper GI series this morning. The running-around alone would be enough to make someone crazy, but add to it the following things:

-- Mother calling me at ass o’clock Tuesday morning, yelling that we have to leave RIGHT NOW because they can get her in earlier (and not really believing her because of past histrionics);

-- having to run her errandssit with her because she’d been sedated and might be woozy all day (she wasn’t); and

-- smushing myself into two chairs trying to sleep while waiting THREE FUCKING HOURS for this test today as a crazy Asian old guy yelled at his son and a bunch of snotty little kids ran around screaming and being snotty;

and you would be as useless as I was today when I got home. Seriously, I conducted an interview and then just sat in front of my computer in a fog all afternoon because I’m so worn out. About the only thing good in all this is that switching Mother’s meds last week has kept her relatively calm. If she’d have been on Defcon Mother, someone would’ve been dead by now.

I threw “narrow duodenum” into the Google monster, and everything that came up first had to do with duodenal ulcers (of which I had one, like, 13 years ago, and it sucked). Seeing that Upper GIs are used to find ulcers, we may have a diagnostic winner. We’ll find out tomorrow morning.


Posted by Broad8:36 PM
It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

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Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...


The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:



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