Living in Babylon

Originally Posted Wednesday, March 5, 2014

I have blown out my knee and can barely walk.  I can't walk without extreme pain.  I will have to listen to the experts.  I will call to make an appointment with an orthopedic doctor today.  I hate it.  They already know what they will do to me before I walk in the door.  The doctor, if s/he were honest, could tell you now.  Of course there will be the hour of sitting in the waiting room, then another half hour with the occasional nurse giving me more paperwork to fill out or to take my temperature, then the doctor him/herself will walk in with the canned greeting and the questions about what's wrong, where the pain is.  An MRI will be scheduled.  I will come back for the hour in the waiting room, the rigamarole, the MRI.  I will come back and sit in the waiting room for an hour before I see the doctor who will have the MRI results.  Then I will be told there is some tearing and some scarring and s/he will recommend some arthroscopic procedure to "clean it up."  Then we will schedule that and I will go wherever. . . .  and a month after I was supposed to be healed, the sonofabitch will still be fucked up. 

Fuck me. 

But I don't think I can fix this one on my own.  I think I am out of options.  I will put my knee in someone else's hands.  It is truly an act of faith. 

I read a prediction/warning that was attributed to scientists that global warming and the thawing of the Arctic tundra will bring back ancient viruses in the world that have long been extinct.  Well. . . there is that to look forward to. 

I am living in Babylon with nowhere to hide.