I am in a bad place. Unfortunately, I don't mean physically.
I blame my bladder. It hasn't gotten over the kidney stone trauma.
A friend suggested that a lawsuit maybe in order, but no. I think the only one I could sue would be the God that decided, "Hey, a little screwed-up DNA is A-OK." I hear he has good lawyers, and if you are winning, he trots out the old saw about he created the world.
Also, my urologist said it could be months before I am back to normal. My bladder was, to use her medical term, "jazzed."
The incontinence saps my strength, my energy, me. Yuck.
Monday, July 8, 2013
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July
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- It's gotta be the bat-cycle
- Reason no. 5,423,302 why I hate being disabled
- I'm not a Rock
- It's not porn; it's "The Sessions"
- These dreams go on when I close my eyes
- Can no longer be a misanthrope, maybe a lycanthrope
- I want to be this kind of disabled
- Yuck
- Toilet is less funny in person
- Everyone's looking out for me
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5 comments:
I'll hold you in the light until you can get back there. xxoo
me
I'm kind of stuck on the image of a jazzed bladder. I see it dancing in a dimly lit nightclub, probably in paris. I love you though, all the time
metc
I now have a mental picture of a bladder doing "jazz hands".
"Thanks a lot Mare"
Me too all of it.
JTG
this has been in my mind since she told Mom jazzed. Welcome to my world.
Signed: DJ Jazzy Bladder and the Fresh Kidney
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