Amazing Zippered Woman

Muddled Indeed

As I might have mentioned in recent posts, I’ve been having a situation with my lower back. Well, we still don’t have a satisfactory resolution, but we might have discovered what is actually causing the problem. The shot series was a failure, although I really enjoyed all the attention and the fact that I was ordered to “take it easy” every day that I had an injection. I also invented a post-injection pain reliever that I think could revolutionize pain management. It’s actually quite simple - vodka in your ice bag.

  Next my spine doc ordered some flex-extension xrays - very interesting, slightly erotic poses taken while wearing a sexy “gown” that ties in the back. It was these pics that ultimately provided a huge clue. I have a broken screw (from a previous surgery) wandering around in my back. I truly have “a screw loose.” Dr. Brad has referred me to Barrow Neurological Center, but they are taking their sweet time deciding whether or not they are willing to take me as a patient. What a crock of BS. What happened to that oath all doctors take? I suspect that they spotted the “T” word (transplant) on my records and don’t want to risk it. I’m becoming more and more convinced that neuro surgeons are ego-driven, sadistic assholes who will only see patients who have guaranteed successful outcomes. I’m going to wait two more days and then I’m going to write letters to everyone I can think of. I also intend to trash Barrows on every Rate-a-Doc website I can find. This ain’t my first rodeo. I didn’t acquire all these zippers without learning a thing or two along the way.  Thanks for letting me vent.

Until this elusive screw is located or relocated, I’ve been taking VICODIN to help with the pain. A thousand mgs. of Vicki (my pet name for my new friend) certainly makes my pain more tolerable and my attitude much improved.  The pharmacist warned that Vicki might make me a little fuzzy and muddled.  Quite the contrary!  Let me give you an example.  I’ve always suspected that there is a panther living under my dining-room table, but what I did not realize is that said panther runs around the house in the middle of the night wearing my underwear. I bet you aren’t aware that my neighbor’s entire back yard folds up to reveal a training stage for Irish Step Dancers. And I have proof.  Muddled indeed.  Just look who has invited me to be his date to a White House event honoring FOX NEWS…

Lush Limpball. Oh I mean Blush Flimpaw. What do I mean?

What should I wear? How about that gown I wore for the xrays.  Maybe I’ll tie it in front. Wink. Wink.