writing doodle - unrelated location - as yet untitled

ok - incredibly messy - but working on getting words out ... a blank page can't be edited or corrected ... sad but true.

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attempting to put my nose back to the grindstone

There was no comfortable position except standing or sitting, all I could do was pray my back wouldn't get tired.  Problem was, my feet hurt after being on them for close to eight hours and unless I was in a brace of some kind, my posture was going to fail in the chair and I was going to slump and touch something.

If that happened, I'd no longer be tired, just cranky and in a lot of pain.

Never again.

Never again will I refuse pain medication when it is readily and freely offered by the emergency room physician.

Sure, my shoulder has been dislocated before.  I was younger then and I had a woman/girlfriend who would take care of me when I got home.  At least that had been the plan. Turned out the last time, she was taking care of someone else and in the biblical sense, so I was on my own then and pretty much now.  

Red broke through the screendoor and escaped at the same time the plumber showed up to fix the slow drain in the bathroom.  Turned out that Strange and Sons Plumbing was related to Strange and Sons Rentals, my landlords, only everyone I've met so far named Strange is a woman.  And the one I have run into, today, literally, seems a little too familiar. 

If there is a god, she isn't the woman who had a thing for electrical tape, bungy cords, and whipped cream.  It took nine months for the hair to grow back and my memory is still sketchy.

Then again, there probably is no god because she is the one who took me to the ER, sat with me until Manny could pick me up.  Seems that there is a policy about adult supervision after some procedures are done, for now Red is still growing and won't count as an adult for quite some time.

I had hooked my fingers in Red's collar and was walking her back to the house when she saw a pigeon and took off after it.  I felt like something out of a slapstick comedy, but it didn't feel funny.  She dragged me about five feet, broke the collar, and then walked back to the house leaving me bruised and bloody on the sidewalk.  I admired the leaves on the tree above me, tried to get my breath back, and definitely recognized the pain in my shoulder and back.  My shoulder had only just healed a month before Red adopted me and the doctor didn't want to go through this again.

Neither did I.

He used horrible, terrible, and terrifying words:  consent forms, needles, surgery.

I gladly give consent to any number of things. Fun things.  Happy things.  Once in a while necessary things.  Not life changing things, not unless it is life threatening.

Needles.  Never do I volunteer for needles, my most recent tattoo is an exception.  A portrait of Red on my forearm.  Once I put the name of the woman I thought was the one over my heart, I got the ring back within a week.  I figure Red is stuck with me for the duration.  Besides, she can keep a secret even if she can't keep to her own side of the bed.

Surgery? Not unless someone is dying or there is absolutely no other alternative.  With a little PT, I could avoid surgery.  Again.