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Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Saw the neurologist today. Two months have passed since the last major spinegraine, the scariest to date. A spinal malformation, over time, has developed so severe a deterioration as to make standing a near impossibility. Of course I wondered if the yoga regime had brought this latest spazz on . . . but the yoga is what had me back on my feet within hours of the spasm, rather than days.
Here are my fears: that I'll become a chronic pain whiny asshole hypochondriac. Oh, we've got 'em in the family, and I recognize a self-pitying tendency in me that could easily get out of hand. My bigger fear is that I won't be able to practice the 26 Bikram postures again. The last two spazzes, no -- the last three -- have happened in class. What I know is that I'm going to have to resume the practice very, very carefully. Still, as my spirit is getting heavier and more morose with each day, I'm now desperate enough to risk another spasm.
The neurologist's upshot: eh, you've got some back trouble, but it could be a whole lot worse, and the peripheral nerve involvement is minor. So, um.
A darker June as a result. Scrapping with the housemate coincided with the meaningless birthday. However, I did get together with cousins Maryann and Laura, and Auntie Ann, as well as meeting the indomitable Elsa G., 79 years old and unstoppable. So not all bad, this month.
Had the 5-year sobriety anniversary. Did not drink to celebrate, of course. But the depressed state has certainly made me remember *why* I used to reach for the bottle. Feeling this way totally sucks.
In approx. a half hour I'm heading out for my last Toastgeeks get-together, and I wish I'd managed to come up with a plausible excuse for not attending. Still, I just need to deliver the outgoing President's speech, then gently wave and depart. Phew is all. No slam against Toastgeeks -- it's a great club. Just not my scene, that's all. If I'm ever in a similar situation in the future, where I feel somewhat pressured to join a group I'm not entirely comfortable with, I know my decision. Walk the hell away.
One of my younger cousins in Edmonton had a terrifying few days recently when his elder son was hospitalized with Hemolytic Uremia Syndrome, resulting in kidney failure, dialysis, and blood transfusions. The boy, Tom, is 5 years old and fighting hard, but will probably need a few months to recuperate. Certainly he'll get a few more transfusions to make sure he's got some platelets to play with. In an orderly life, this kind of situation would wipe my depressed state clear. It has indeed put matters into perspective.
Bill Barol, you were right: CTRL OPTION COMMAND 8 really is mind-blowing. I like, I like.