Back from Boston

My back survived the drive from Boston to New York.   Six f'ing hours.   Now I get back to looking for work.   Things is gettin' dicey over here.   I'm trying to write an essay about the trauma that goes along with the disintegration of a career.   It's not as easy as you might think.   It's not enough to simply be descriptive.   In any case we have to go and pick up the bird from his boarding place.   I just thought I should get back to the blog in some way.   I'm feeling a bit disjointed.   Not too surprising.   Happy new year everybody.

The Back Story

I saw a new doctor today.  New to me at least.  I called this back specialist because it was time, after two years, for another cortisone shot.  A shot that makes all the pain go away, without all the pesky side effects of pain killers.  Side effects like a month in re-hab, the loss of friends, family and jobs.  I told the person I spoke with, when I called, that I was just coming in for a cortisone shot.  Period.

In Japan, two years ago, I walked into a doctors office and said, "Please give me an epidural cortisone shot."  These are also called "Trigger point" shots, for the uninitiated. Within twenty minutes I had my shot and was virtually skipping my way back to the hotel, pain free and well satisfied.

Not today.  This guy takes an x-ray - a pointless procedure,  tells me what I already know and then refuses to give me what I came for, saying that I first need an MRI.  "You know," he says, "If you've got an infection, the cortisone would kill you."  Well, fuck me. I'm not gonna drag this out.  Enough to say it'll be many days and a bit of luck before I get what I need.   So here I lie, in a lot of pain, clutching my bottle of Alieve,  waiting for the dawn.