In other words, I just discovered that all the fuc****g nerves in your body meet and hold congress in your spine. After back surgery, whatever you attempt to do is going to instantly send punishing electric jolts to your backbone.
When you tamper with the sanctity of the flesh, even the most trivial body movement becomes an ordeal. All your muscular efforts are now subject to careful consideration. Is this move necessary or worth the subsequent amount of pain?
You are now dealing with an exquisitely crafted app called “painometry”. This app requires you to use your pain debit card for any extra physical exertion. For instance, for the privilege of standing up you will be charged a certain amount of pain. Same for sitting down or for attending to your bodily functions. And you will have to pay on the spot. As the French say, “No tickee, no washee.”
On the 5th day at the hospital, the dark powers behind the shiny façade of the hospital decided that it was time for me to vacate the premises. A variety of nurses and doctors also concurred to evict me.
I had two options: spend a week or two in a rehab facility or go home with a rented hospital bed and have my live-in lover cope with me. Tamara and I wisely picked the second option.
We started transitioning back from the Vacaville Kaiser facility to San Rafael Tuesday August 8 at 2:30 pm; a long car ride (about an hour) for somebody with a sensitive back condition. Tamara did an excellent job of driving and avoiding the numerous potholes blossoming on the freeway. I am afraid that her bill for services rendered is going to be staggeringly high, but she is worth her weight in gold.
Unfortunately when we arrived in Marin the promised hospital bed and the accompanying walker that we previously ordered were absent. I had to spend an uncomfortable night on a makeshift bed set up in the middle of our living room. In the meantime, due to technical problems the second floor of our condo is now a no-man’s land where squirrels and raccoons roam at will. A new Fukushima. Enter at your own risk.
Facing this new situation, I had to reorganize my life around the living room. And the worse part is that I cannot use my beloved 27” Mac (32 MB of memory) located in the restricted zone. I have to make do with Tamara’s MacBook that is not set up to my own personal specifications. It is like driving a Trabant after having strutted for years in a Bentley.
But beggars cannot be choosers! A reporter must report regardless of what the field conditions are. So it is from my living room bunker that I will be feeding you some tantalizing tidbits of news.
Before I file this report though, I would like to thank all the lovely people who were rooting for me and helped me to keep my spirits up while being tossed like a rag doll in the white waters of back surgery.
See you soon sometimes in a few months in the pétanque’s golden arena. Tata for now my little cochonnets.
Alain aka La Foudre