Friday, October 14, 2005

Things you learn with a Bad Back - Volume 7

Jeremy Franklin - named after the coolest character to ever grace a children’s novella {Mrs. Frisbee and the Rats of Nihm, by Robert C. O’brien, or so he was told later on in life, as the book is actually 4 years younger than him }, and his grandfather {Albert Franklin} ... Code Name "Superdaddyman" aka “Jeremy Crow“ ... phylum "Imaginus Rediculus" - greatest contributions to the world thus far - Keeping many of the seacoasts finest nurses, and Dunkin Donuts employees visually stimulated, why his ramblings online have made many swoon, mentally … Future great moments should include - The printing of the greatest self diagnostic manual, since Sigmond Freud {a rank amateur really}… “And the throngs of millions cheer, as Superdaddyman finally steps out from behind the curtain to face his ….”

Truthfully, nothing is more infuriating than going to the Doctors, and I have yet to feel that I have been doing much more than granting head service {pun intended} to a long series of Quacks, for the last 4 months. It’s rather hard really to deal with all of the mundane shit that flies through my head as it is, without the whole “back back” situation heaped on top of it all. I have treated it like a funny little nuisance, for quite some time now. The whole, being hit on by nurses, amusing things I notice when looking through women’s magazines, or even being touched by hotties during physical therapy, has been quite true actually, but my humor hides a rather looming issue that finally came to fruition today. I have now been labeled officially physically unable to ever do the type of work, I for the most part have ever done. I knew it, they knew it, and the insurance company desperately wanted me labeled as such. The fact that I am now documented in a way that I will never pass a physical for the types of jobs to which I have always done, and has fed my family is really actually quite scary.

Beyond the mind that everyone has become accustomed to peeking into now and again, I am after all a single father, who does his best to raise his children, and that includes working. The job that I have done since last December, was not only the worst, but it was the most physically, and psychologically damaging career choice I ever made, and in a round about sort of way, they own me, and they treat me as such. They have always had promises, and always have lied, and in all reality, they chewed me up, spit me out, and damaged the lives of 5 people in one felled swoop. There’s nothing more really to say about that other than … I AM OUT FOR REVENGE {Fiendish laughter … echoing … booming throughout the entire internet … sinister organ music … a voice like the count from Sesame Street! … MUAHAHAHAHAHA}, and the first step to all of that was calling into work this evening … status … Mental Health, and by the way FUCK YOU! I think they already had the point as I totally refused to do the supervisory tasks after receiving my paycheck Wednesday {of course after the semi-lucent nervous breakdown} to be surprised about how it was EXTREMELY light on the promises, and as usual very heavy on the tuff shit. It’s a new ballgame kids … The Pink Mafia is GOING DOWN … I watched Donnie Brasco, I know how these things work.

For all of the pain and confusion of being owned by really poor medical supervision over the last few months, I am now unable to do many of the things I used to love. I can no longer go to the gym, and play with the “big peoples” weights. I can never go surfing {and trust me, THAT ALONE, is killing me}, and I may never go bowling again. These are simply other side casualties in my quest to be whole again, but they were VERY IMPORTANT to me. It was brought to my attention that the insurance company would just adore seeing me {or should I say whomever they have with a camera, spying}, at any of those tasks. I watched my entire yard that I so treasured and adored turn to a brown mess over this last summer, as I couldn’t be caught working on it. The psychological damage of a lot of these things is amazing really, but I still find the ability to usually get past all of that and assume that the good part about poor physicians, is that they usually are wrong. I am pretty sure that I will recover from this crap.

I will go in Monday, and demand reassignment, as the insurance company threatened to do to me, especially now that I know, I don’t HAVE to take anything offered, and they must pay for my education otherwise. The nice lady at the state Department of Labor told me so. I am NOT going to get a fucking ulcer over this shit anymore. There is finally a starting point to the actual closure on all of this area of crap, as I now point out, and note, the last of my three phases of recovery has ended.

Phase 1. Being at the mercy of a Physical Therapists schedule ……… done
Phase 2. Being at the mercy of a Surgical Teams Schedule ……….…. done
Phase 3. Being at the mercy of a Quack’s schedule, and lack thereof … done

On a lighter note, I just received a package in the mail from a faithful reader of the Superdaddyman. Inside of this package there was a lot of bubble wrap, and a Pepi-Le-Pew Doll, complete with a jacket and tails, from one of the wonderful people I have met through my blogging escapades. It came as a total shock to me at first, and made me say, “Cool Groupies!” at first {part of me was hoping that it was panties with perfume on them, but hey “Dare to dream” yanno. My spirit guides have always been skunks, and as I have gotten older and wiser it has been a privilege to have one of the most powerful creatures taking care of me everyday. I am also blessed to have many people who read and know me a little better, and as well as weaves in my basket give me strength, so do the spirit guides I have online as well ;8o)

Question … Is there {and what is it}, that one doubt moment in your life that you often point to as the thing you really would change if you could? {realistically I know we can’t and in many ways we wouldn’t because it adds to us as who we are, but curiosity has to get you sometimes … an example of that would be, how I often wish I had never met my second wife … it then always comes down to “but I wouldn’t have my children” but I would be totally full of shit, if I didn’t at times throw that out into the wash as well}