Saturday, August 06, 2005

All scans normal. Neuroleptics unite!

My CT scan was benign. My Treadmill was sufficient. My vision is faulty due to large doses of Atavan consumption. I have appointments next week with neurology for headache assessments, and a rather barbarous sleep deprivation procedure called "Sleep deprivation procedure". Well, the technical name is EEG. Although, the elderly office woman of eighty something years of age, mentioned something about having to stay awake for many hours and then sleep after midnight, awake aprubtly at 4:00AM and then eat a hearty breakfast with no coffee or tea. I was then to force myself awake using whatever tecniques I can imagine (TV shopping channels, old reruns of McCloud) and then at 1:00PM arrive at Kaiser, refreshed and augmented, to begin a procedure that only Terry Gilliam himself could have come up with. My doctor of the headache conference, Dr. Peterbakercererr, I believe that's how it's spelled, will then extend my DMI (Durable Medical Implants?), to allow me more time off of work to receive my illness time and continue to create long winded rumours about my early demise or vegatism. All of this fully covered! How bout that!
Otherwise, I am getting off the sedatives and am drinking more green drinks. Sprirulina shakes with a little blue green algae thrown in as a mixer. This outta do the trick. Those kids don't know what they're in for when Mr. Tony gets back, full of vim and vinegar, pep and peppy.
I was awoke this morning to the sounds of all my students running outside my apartment yelling my name. It was wonderul. I threw on some clothes and joyously opened the door to be greeted by the old latino handiman cleaning refuse from the matted carpets. He smiled that broken smile, you know, the broken smile of the laborer who has long been anhiliated. I asked him where were the kids. He laughed that laugh without proper dental care, and then returned to his miasma, cleaning the same spot on the illegally flammable rugs. No kids. No students calling my name, in hopes of my return. Oh well, there's always tomorrow. And tomorrow is a new tomorrow. It's a great big beautiful tomorrow. But for today. Let's get goin. Goin..g. Go, go, go gogo.


Blogger Michael Pascoe said...

How are you doing? You have me worried. I am glad I found this blog. Is this a work of fiction, or is this real? You have not written to me, so I don't know. Please contact me.

Your friend,

Michael Pascoe

1:56 AM  

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