After nearly six months of a drug-free life (and the accompanying emotional roller coaster this state places me on), I've reluctantly returned to the antidepressant fold. My new friend is Effexor, and it's too soon to tell whether it will offer me the same benefits (and wretched side effects) as wellbutrin. The initial side effects, however, are similar.
I'm not sure why I'm in constant pain. Perhaps I should see a doctor.
I'm well into my third week of back pain. It varies from minor to excruciating, but it's always present. Mostly in my upper back, it sometimes reaches down along my spine, but also wreaks havoc with the muscles beneath my shoulder blades. Right now, the pain is centered just below my neck; it hurts when I raise or lower or turn my head to the right.
Why am I in so much pain? There are theories. My job has become increasingly physical; I'm toting far more merchandise around, climbing ladders, sometimes balancing a stack of books with one hand while climbing down a ladder with another. I was sleeping with my pillow folded in half, which I'm sure put some unneeded strain on my neck, but even after I bought one of those special foam pillows, the pain continues as before.
Advil doesn't work. Hot baths don't work. This makes for a cranky reverend. Thing is, I can't afford a chiropractor, even with my insurance. It's a sucky situation and I hate it, period. Any advice would be greatly appreciated.
David Reimer, subject of the book As Nature Made Him, killed himself on the 4th of May. Born Bruce Reimer 38 years ago, his penis was burned off in a circumcision accident. He and his twin brother Brian soon became the subject of a famous experiment that asked the question: Is gender a biological or social identity?
Okay, kids, it's time to play You be the Appeals Judge.
Ok, this case comes to your court. Politically and legally, it's a stinker, taking pro-life and pro-choice arguments and twisting them together into very hard knots.
Which statement strikes you as closest to your opinion: "...the constitutional right to have children is overcome when society must bear the financial and everyday burden of care." or "...it violates the United States Constitution..."?
Do you strike down or uphold this ruling?
As the mad-cow controversy continues to rage, I believe it's time for me to reconsider my diet.
At the candy store, it's inevitable that one will encounter fat kids. Most have fat parents; in fact, I can't recall seeing a fat child who didn't have fat parents. It breaks my heart to see toddlers literally wider than tall, or to see 8-year old girls with breasts. And there have been hundreds of articles and TV news reports about how Americans are getting fatter and fatter, along with the prerequisite shots of guts and butts.
But...feeding French fries to an infant?
The girlfriend and I are both sidelined with a cold. I confess I had it first. However, the girlfriend got it just when I started to get sick, so there was no warning. At least that's what I tell her. She's just ill enough to believe me.
It's our first illness together. We sip orange juice and Dayquil and nibble on Oreos. I am tired of chicken noodle soup, so I'm undergoing intensive Oreo therapy. Sad to say, it hasn't helped, but I like Oreos, so fuck it.
The girlfriend, as is her way, is watching bad Saturday morning news fare, consisting of the child star of some movie called "Good Boy" and the widow of Mister Rogers. This is the problem with morning people: they watch morning television. Early in our relationship, before discovering what an asshole I am when unceremoniously woken up at 6am, she would attempt to make me watch reruns of "Family Ties." Now, I watched "Family Ties" as a kid, but there is a proper time to watch the show, and it is not 6am. In the case of "Family Ties," the proper time is 1986.
It's coming up on 9am, and we both need to get showered and cleaned up so we can look presentable for...I don't know, shopping or something. We can't stay inside forever. We must infect the condo-dwellers of Southport, so we may fulfill the prophesy in Revelation 10:54. "And lo, when the autumn sky is warm, there will be a pestilence, and the Yuppie River shall flow with mucus..."
I really wish I could right now, but the largest bottle is only .31 fluid ounces.
I'm suffering some major-league oral problems right now. For two days now, an especially cranky canker sore has pretty much made talking, eating, and even being awake a painful proposition. The sore is located in an especially sensitive area of my mouth: right behind my lower left wisdom tooth, right next to the hinge of my jaw. (It is a hinge, right? My command of medical terminology bites.) I fear an infection, but the flesh around the open sore is a ghastly white, which could mean one of two things: either I've been eating too much white-out, or the area around the sore is necrotic.
Worst of all, nothing eases the pain. Advil is useless; ditto Oragel and Anbesol (both contain a metric ton of benzocaine). Aspirin doesn't work except if I powder a pill and rub it directly onto the wound, which eases the pain temporarily, but is not healthy to do more than once, since it can work some damage on exposed oral tissue (I don't know why; maybe I'm a mutant). I've flossed in hopes that I maybe missed some piece of food in my wisdom tooth, got lodged and caused an infection. Nada. I'm brushing my teeth five times a day now, and using mouthwash almost as often.
I know I'm a naif when it comes to this crap, so other than keeping my mouth clean, I'm biding my time and waiting for the sore to heal. However, I'm taking full advantage of my agony. For one, I can't speak much without clenching my jaw and talking out the unaffected side of my mouth. I've found this has greatly improved my Mayor Daley impersonation. The only things I can eat without pain are stuff I can eat through a straw. I'm going gonzo on milkshakes right now. And with a little extra milk (and a wider straw), mashed potatoes are no sweat. My blender is working overtime, and I've sucked up things I never thought I'd enjoy in liquid form. (Note: remove the T-bone before liquifying your steak; the blades wear out faster if you don't.)
I miss my medical insurance.
