OK, to get on with this thing. Sitting here in rehab waiting for the nice doctors to come in and evaluate me and playing a bit of micro NL on UB. After all what else is there to do when you can’t get around?
You start getting very philisophical when you find out your body has failed you and has put you at the mercy of .others. Like WTF am I doing here. You take delight in the simplest things, like the $20 win at the micro tables last night, the bottle of hot sauce a therapist smuggled into the hospital for you for this crap they call food or the fact that you can rest your hand on the edge of the table without gravity pulling it off. Even when you are fairly solitary by nature it’s a lot different when you are that way by choice as to when you are forced into it. It’s a complete different mindset. Alone, just me in the compter, I’ve spent dozens of evenings this way, yet now it feels totally different because I have no option to do anything different.
Enough of the maudlin crap. Time for the doctors to come in. Have to get theses suckers off their duffs to get working on getting me out of here. Frikkin wasted a whole day so far on BS and ain’t accomplishing a damn thing sitting around. Enough tests and crap, lets get down to work. I got things to do and they ain’t gonna happen with me sitting in this chair. (Tho at least it’s an improvement over being stuck in bed)