I just got out...
...of the hospital again, had a stroke, blah, blah, blah and some things don't work as well as they did but they're things I can earn back and therefore, a few different forms of therapy have been prescribed. So, far, that therapy doesn't contain anything of a psychological nature, but a future is an unpredictable entity so who knows what may happen in that vein. But, I do have to do a few physical therapy thingies and since my hands are slightly fucked up, I have to therapize them.
First, I was given a blue rubber ball to squeeze. That wasn't fun and my therapy rarely lasted longer than the session with the therapist present. When she left, I pretty much put the blue rubber ball on the overhead table, next to the menu du jour which hospitals are so proud of nowadays. Little did I know what was in store for me.
The next thing that the therapists brought in was a huge, blaze orange, blob of Silly Putty. Now, they didn't CALL it Silly Putty, they called it Therapy Putty, but I know Silly Putty when I see it, and this stuff is Silly Putty. And the really cool thing about Silly Therapy Putty is that it's a therapy I can work with. Oh, this isn't just a full egg or three of Silly Therapy Putty, it's small bucket of Silly Therapy Putty.
Anyway...yada, yada, yada, I'm into my new therapy. Between that and trying to type this, I'm working my theoretical ass off. I foresee a quick recovery.
I took some liberties with my Silly Therapuetic Therapy...I shaped my Silly Therapy Putty into a penis. I only did it to get back at someone who molded it into a pussy, ordinarily I try to remain above such behavior. But I felt as though the opportunity for humor far outweighed my usual ladylike sense of decorum, my general savoir-fair and my discriminating erudition.
Anyway, I should go now. I will be back with some fascinating insights into my own psyche. I usually don't discuss such things, but this one is worth a withholding of my usual personal insight suppression. But for now, I must be off, I have a rather large bottle of Moscato waiting for me and I'll be damned if I don't deserve it.
...of the hospital again, had a stroke, blah, blah, blah and some things don't work as well as they did but they're things I can earn back and therefore, a few different forms of therapy have been prescribed. So, far, that therapy doesn't contain anything of a psychological nature, but a future is an unpredictable entity so who knows what may happen in that vein. But, I do have to do a few physical therapy thingies and since my hands are slightly fucked up, I have to therapize them.
First, I was given a blue rubber ball to squeeze. That wasn't fun and my therapy rarely lasted longer than the session with the therapist present. When she left, I pretty much put the blue rubber ball on the overhead table, next to the menu du jour which hospitals are so proud of nowadays. Little did I know what was in store for me.
The next thing that the therapists brought in was a huge, blaze orange, blob of Silly Putty. Now, they didn't CALL it Silly Putty, they called it Therapy Putty, but I know Silly Putty when I see it, and this stuff is Silly Putty. And the really cool thing about Silly Therapy Putty is that it's a therapy I can work with. Oh, this isn't just a full egg or three of Silly Therapy Putty, it's small bucket of Silly Therapy Putty.
Anyway...yada, yada, yada, I'm into my new therapy. Between that and trying to type this, I'm working my theoretical ass off. I foresee a quick recovery.
I took some liberties with my Silly Therapuetic Therapy...I shaped my Silly Therapy Putty into a penis. I only did it to get back at someone who molded it into a pussy, ordinarily I try to remain above such behavior. But I felt as though the opportunity for humor far outweighed my usual ladylike sense of decorum, my general savoir-fair and my discriminating erudition.
Anyway, I should go now. I will be back with some fascinating insights into my own psyche. I usually don't discuss such things, but this one is worth a withholding of my usual personal insight suppression. But for now, I must be off, I have a rather large bottle of Moscato waiting for me and I'll be damned if I don't deserve it.
posted by Meg Kelso | 1:06 PM
2 Comments:
Well, there's my answer Ms. Meg! Another Brilliant Brain Damaged Woman like me who has the medical records to prove it as well! Woo Hoo!
Yk, years ago when I was listening to that Billy Squier song with the lyrics that sound like, "Slowly Stroke Me" I had no idea it was gonna become my life in a way that's been a whole lot less entertaining than the activities referred to in the song.
It's now my ring tone.
Hope your recovery is as eventful as mine-each one is a bit more.....interesting, no? The Medical Profession and allied Health Care folks provide endless fodder for uppity and patronizing behavior forgetting we may have lost parts of our brains, but not the parts that know when we're being dissed. We're way too young for this shit in any event so let's forget being "PC" and just act like our brain scans. If anyone gets offended, I whip out my Handicapped Parking Permit and beat 'em to death with my remaining "good" arm. It's numb most of the time anyway so why not put it to good use?!
TW (Tundra Woman)
So nice to meet you! If anyone gets offended, I'm generally not paying enough attention to notice. Let 'em think I'm nuts, I love to be underestimated.
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