The Broken Soldier

For those who get the reference, sorry.  Consider the title a useful construct.

Simians.  Not much patience for them.  Those in ACU patterns especially so.  Haven’t heard from them, any of them, in close to two months.  Somehow the ‘we’re all rooting for ya’ email sign-off rings hollow in light of this lack of communication and inferred lack of concern.

Cyborgs.  I’ll soon be one.  The neurosurgeon’s PA wrote a script for a fancy orthotic device.  The upper portion girds my ankle and the upper part of my right foot.  The middle and lower, as described to me, is spring-loaded.  The purpose: Keeping the top of my right foot from dragging the ground when I walk.

Women.  Two of note.  First the PA.  Pisses me off that I know more about my injuries, syndromes, and how to treat each than she does.  She prescribed PT 2-3 times a week for 4 weeks.  If that doesn’t work, more diagnostic testing, and additional surgeries are what awaits me.  Again, I voiced concern re: Spinal fusion.  With the discs above deteriorating - and deteriorated to the exact degree L5-S1 was 18 months ago, the additional stress of fusion may not be the best option.  She shook her head, something of a vacant expression on her usually chirpy and attentive countenance, spit what I just said back at me, saying fusion was the likely next step.  Whatever.

The second women of note is my wife.  She’s concerned.  The usual stuff plus some newer stuff.  Specifically ‘mood swings.’  I don’t recognize them.  She does.  I’ll have to bring them up to the doc next time.  To finish the thought, I feel sorry for her.  Living me with pre-injury was no picnic.  Post-injury has to be a nightmare.