Pick a Letter...

Pick a letter out of the alphabet.  You have twenty-six attractive choices (32 if you count the optional letters that were eliminated by some group of bibliophiles back in the n^th century).  So pick one, and remember that your grade for the year does not depend you your selection.

The Letter 'C'

I just knew someone would get it!  After all, if 100 chimpanzees can be chained to 100 typewriters for 100 zillion years and eventually the chance striking of the keys will produce the Encyclopedia Britannica, then why not?  Right?

Last Saturday (June 30^th, 2018) I awoke with a sore throat.  I put it down to clean living and carried on as usual.  Sunday it was worse, and bad enough to cause me to seek the advice of a local witch doctor, known to medical bureaucrats as my primary care physician.  Something that us older gents would call a family doctor.

On Monday (July 2^nd) I made an appointment with Dr. Bones, a general practitioner with 38 years experience and a general all-around nice guy.

On Tuesday (July 3^rd) I kept the appointment.  Dr. Bones examined me and said that given my medical history, my condition was above his pay grade.  He said that even though the dice haven't been rolled, the smart money is on the Don't Come line, and my cancer is back with a vengeance.  He told me that what I needed was Ohio State University, but in order to get an appointment that wasn't six months out I had to go through an Otolaryngologist (Ear, Nose, and Throat or ENT guy).  His crew got me an appointment with the ENT, and since my throat is as bad as a fresh tonsillectomy, Bones prescribed Hydrocodon Acetaminophen 5-325, 42 pills.

On Wednesday (July 4^th) the pain was worse.  Swallowing is almost impossible, and requires all the willpower I can muster up.  The pills aren't helping much, even though I've doubled the dosage.  I dissolve the pills in water in order to take them.

On Thursday (July 5^th) the pain has worsened somewhat.  When I call Dr. Bones and explain that I can't eat and can't drink, he suggests I go to the emergency room.  I can't afford it, pure and simple.  When I explain this to Bones, he suggests that I get myself admitted to the hospital, which is also not affordable.  I take pills and tough it out, even though swallowing causes me to flinch and walk around.

Thursday night my hot water heater took a dump.  I turned off the gas and water to it, then got a referral from my HOA for a licensed plumber.  By 11:30 AM Friday I had hot water.

On Friday I saw Dr. Bignose, the Otolaryngologist (ENT to the ignorant masses).  Dr. Bignose did what he was supposed to do, which was examine me and say that my case is above his pay grade, but he'd get me an appointment with OSU.  At my insistence, and I did everything but pull a gun on him, the idiot gave me a prescription for Oxycodone / Acetaminophen 5-325, which is supposed to be stronger than the Hydro.  I don't think it is, but there you have it.

On Monday Dr. Bignose's office will call me with the appointment information for OSU, if I don't call them first.  I'm thinking that if I don't hear anything by 11:00 AM, I'll call them.

Pain Scale

When I'm on pain meds, the discomfort is at a one (1), with me feeling like I'm in a nice fog and should take a little nap.  When I swallow, the pain spikes to an eight (8).  I yell.  I do a funny little dance.  My arms twitch.

I don't allow myself to think about what the future might hold.  I've been down this road before, and the scenery isn't pretty.