I Don’t Need A Backiotomy!


I hadn’t planned to blog about anything else this week after One Lone Black Nerd I Be, but my experience over these past couple of days needs to be shared. My close friends are aware of my struggles with chronic pain from gout and more prominently, from my lower back, sciatica, and numbness with tingling in my feet. I have suffered for years, partly due to insurance deficiencies and mostly due to my own stubbornness.

I hadn’t seen a doctor not just because I hadn’t had the insurance, but because, frankly, I was afraid to go. I feared the doctor would find something major wrong with me and add it to the already long list of ailments: heart disease, gout, abnormal kidney function, inability to do math, weakness for tall brunettes, and high risk for diabetes. That was the big fear. My father was diabetic. He had it really bad. Even with all his efforts, he lost the battle at 61. I am so scared that my ending will be the same so I try to take things more seriously when it comes to my doctor’s orders and recommendations. I’ve been diagnosed as diabetic before. I started working out and lost weight and got things back under control, but then my heart decided to crush me down to the brink followed by my back. I sat on my ass for almost 2 years now; my back not even allowing me to walk any length without extreme pain and my feet turning into numb bricks. I needed my back so I could get to work on making my heart better through exercise, so I finally decided to address the problem.

I made an appointment to see a highly respected and regarded local spine specialist a month ago and yesterday was the appointment. I do my research. When you go to the doctor as much as I do, you want someone capable, with a good bedside manner. They often have to give you news you don’t want to hear. It’s easier to take with niceness than with a cold detachment. The specialist did her exam and basically told me what I feared it always was…neuropathy. I immediately had thoughts of losing my feet like I’ve seen happen to so many others. I got x-rays, scheduled a CT, and an EMG (Electromyogram) to test for nerve damage. She also prescribed me two weeks of a drug called neurontin. I was like, “Great, another medication”, but this one has done a magic trick.

The medication has alleviated my back pain, numbness, and burning nerve pain in my legs, lumbar, and even my cervical spine by at least 85%. I still have the occasional twinge or sciatic ache, but let me tell you the near immediate change after I took this medication was mind-blowing. I felt like I was Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz where she opens the door from Kansas into Oz and everything goes from dirty, Dust Bowl black and white to majestic Technicolor. The Dark Side of the Moon was playing in my head, yes, because I know you were wondering. I must have stared at the ceiling for at least 5 minutes, looking at the tiles as if I had never really seen them before. My nerves no longer fired off in excruciating volleys of searing pain. I didn’t have to sit down once today to make the feeling come back to my feet. When I stood up, it was as if my legs were awake again and not merely rickety beams holding up an old rusted bridge. They wanted to move. My back wanted to move. It felt free, like it was unbound from the chains of torture. I honestly felt kind of stoned. That makes sense, as neurontin is a nerve pain drug. I felt….really damn good. I felt like I was the God-Damned Batman!

I was at work, at my desk, having a giggle fit. People thought I was crazy. The waves of pain relief that crashed through me put me in a state of near euphoric happiness. Nothing got to me today. Everything was ok. I was untouchable. I wasn’t on edge like I usually always am. I was so relieved to the point of tears. I did not realize I got used to the misery and torture I put my body through unnecessarily. I could have solved this years ago. I’m stubborn, just like my father. Hell, just like most men, especially african-american ones. “Just put some Vicks or Tussin on it!” My mother basically kept us alive with Vicks, Tussin, and Nyquil. Broken bone? Tussin. Ebola? Vicks. Coughing up blood? Nyquil. That’s how we rolled.

I walked around today, feeling like I had conquered a planet. I felt a king. I felt more hilarious (as if that’s possible!). I felt more intelligent. I felt more handsome (again, inconceivable!). My back DIDN’T hurt. My feet DIDN’T go numb. I’m anxious to get the results of these tests to see if there is anything more to be done, but I think I’m on the right track. I feel stupid for waiting and for being afraid. I won’t hold my GVTV crew back any longer. I won’t be the weak link. They won’t have to stop for me. They won’t have to leave me behind. I will be able to dance the good slow dances I owe to some special girls. I’ll be able to get my workouts on. I’m going to triumph over this obstacle just like all the others.

I DON’T NEED A BACKIOTOMY!!!

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Mystery Dick Theater: Cock’s Last Day


This blog is about dicks; not figurative dicks, but literal dicks.

“Uh, ok.” I can hear you say it now, but bear with me. I had posted an article on my Facebook profile a few days ago about NBA player and doofus Draymond Green “accidentally” posting a picture to his entire Snapchat TL of his penis. My dear friend Elizabeth Anne Hamilton and I entertained ourselves immensely and gloriously lewdly posting comments about it as if his penis was getting a performance review from the boss.  Here now, is how, if his dick was being reviewed like they do in the workplace, I think it would go….

Big Dick (President and founder of Big Dick Pics): “Cock! Cock Johnson! Cum in here!”

In strolls Cock to Dick’s office, erect, excited to receive a stroking. “What’s up, Big Dick?! You yelled for me?”

Big Dick: “So we need to talk about your performance….”

Cock: “Damn straight! You like that Dick Pic I dropped on that girl’s Snapchat?! I was all oiled up and shiny, like a boss!” Cock was pleased with himself as he gently throbbed.

BD: “Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that CJ. That pic went to EVERYONE’S TL, you penis! Which would be salvageable, but, well….you were looking listless and droopy. The Lighting was poor!  I really think you could do better. Have you considered further training?”

CK: “I don’t understand BD. I flog everyday!!! Never skip a day!!!  I’m like a rock!”

BD: “Well, by the looks of this pic, more like a soft pebble. Maybe you’re jacking too hard? Maybe you need some help? Viagra? Your medical plan covers it. You should look into it. You know how us older penises get. I take it, there’s no shame there.”

CK: “Fuck that, BD! I don’t use performance enhancers!!! That’s for those bullshit movie penises! I’m a real phallus! I go all natural.”

BD: “Can you maybe get more erect?”

CK: “Dammit boss, I am ballin’ so hard! I’m one of your best members! I mean, I know I’m not as big as Mandingo Jones, but I got moves! I work what I got.”

BD: “Mandingo is our star right now, Cock. He’s like a battering ram. He’s curiously frightening, which is good. You’ve fallen off. We hired you because of your plucky spirit and you were always ready to go at a moment’s notice. The hint of cleavage, a wisp of panty line, a breeze…and you sprung into action.  Now….you’re soft.  I’m afraid I’m going to have to write you up for a poor attitude. Please bear in mind you have been warned. The next time we catch you sleeping on the job, you’re sacked.”

Cock Johnson begins to throb faster now. Part anger and part sadness, he bursts into tears. “I’m…I’m not 17 anymore…I….I’ve been having trouble at home…and…..” The throbbing is now reaching a crescendo.

BD: Oh, no, stop crying……. OH GOD, THOSE AREN’T TEARS!!! WHAT IS THAT COMING OUT OF YOUR EYE? DAMMIT, COCK, YOU’RE FIRED!!! We can’t have that kind of a mess here! After that outburst, I’m afraid you’ll need to pack up your desk and leave the premises. We can’t have that kind of a mess here.

CK, between spurts: “Is there severance pay?”

BD: “WE DON’T TALK ABOUT THAT!!!!!” Big Dick hardens himself, “I’m afraid I can’t answer questions about unemployment insurance. You’ll need to contact HR about that. Also, I’m afraid our company will not be giving you a reference. Now, pack your things and security will help you pull out.”

Cock is now deflated. He feels half the size he was when he walked in the office. “I can’t believe I’ve been dicked. What will I do now?” Cock mutters to himself as he hangs a left down the exit hallway….

There you are. That’s where my brain went with that. Go find the original thread on my page. Until next time!

PILLOW, TIMMY!