Ankle Update.

I think that Abigail getting medieval on my ass helped. Today I actually worked a double-sized route and didn't have any major pain. I don't know if it was the massage, the electrocution, or the pink tape (which came off with my sock this afternoon). The silly exercises seem to be helping, too.

I canceled the MRI, and notified my doctor. I really don't think that it's fractured, just a fluid/swelling/range of motion problem.

Ankle Update.

I had yet another follow-up visit to the doctor's office today. Since it's still swollen (5 weeks after the incident) and I'm still in pain, dude is getting concerned that the x-rays missed something. Now, he wants to investigate an occult fracture.

Perhaps this is why praying is not helping. Uncle Chuck was probably right when he said that my ankle was "fucking broken, dude," when I was part of the SS backing vocals crew. Maybe I require "demonic assistance" from Krulltar? Does Aleister Crowley have something to do with this? I should call Art Bell on this one, for sure, or at least consult my crystal skull-bong or the mighty Ouija board.

I got an upgrade to my subscription. I get to have an MRI and physical therapy (I can hardly wait for that).

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Now playing: Danzig - Blood And Tears

Broken?

Today, I finally went to the DO about the "broken" ankle. He was impressed by my elevate, rest, ice, ibuprofen routine. He said that I actually did a pretty good job at the DIY medicine. The nurse noted that I was shaking and had elevated bp (apparently this is more painful than I thought). I renewed my "subscription" of percocet (it seems that I'm always on that stuff) and I got a nightmarish lace-up brace thing (put your foot up on my leg, honey; tell me if I hurt you--nurses are hilarious; at least I talked my way out of the "bionic woman" boot-device).

I got to go to the hospital for an X-ray, because dude thought that I'd busted up my lateral maleolus or something, besides having "torn something" (thus, the pooling of blood under the skin).

The wizards of radiology determined that it ain't broke. I'm supposed to take it easy for a week and go back. If I did really mess myself up, we can figure it out after the swelling goes down. Right now, the bizarre nerve pain is probably because of swelling. Meanwhille, más drogas, mis amigos. I have a class to go to on Thursday, so this ought to be really fun, or just like high school.

Busy Weekend.

I guess I'm supposed to be "tweeting" stuff like this. LRC says that I'm supposed to use that for "I'm taking a dump" type posts. I can do that here--why would I want to subscribe to something else for people who aren't savvy enough to use feeds and aggregators and whatnot? Oprah is doing it, so perhaps I will. Maybe someday.

Friday night was my amazing tacos and vodka. I've actually been a light-weight since my ancient Chinese secret. It's a lot cheaper to catch a buzz since my Lenten booze fast.

Saturday, I awoke to no snow aqui (where was the 4 feet, dude). I cruised down to LRC's pad--it was 'nother story there--big car-sized snow boulders in the road and shit. Lame.

I wanted to see a movie to get out of the rain. We missed Fast and Furious, and I actually wanted to see He's Just Not That Into You, because Jennifer Aniston and Drew Barrymore are in it (hot chicks to me).

During the movie, I got a call back from dude who's bass I was interested in. I arranged to meet him later, after the kids were in bed.

We picked up the minivan of doom. The dumb asses broke a bolt off in the timing cover and replaced it for twice the price. I bit my tongue, because my Mexicans would've done it cheaper (free+parts) but it probably would've involved Bondo, a sledgehammer, JB Weld, or a die grinder (likely all four). The coolant that I smelled a couple of weeks ago was indeed a fucked up water pump--I called it but didn't press the issue at the time. Whoot to me for my nose diagnostic (when driving trucks, you have to use all your senses).

<bass nonsense>

I went to Aurora to investigate the bass. Indeed it was clean, with the modifications that are required to make a 1951 design usable with modern strings and amplifiers. I'm still lukewarm about the schoolbus bass (the color needs to grow on me still):



Dig that goofy strap con los conchos, hombres. That'll go away. It only requires Grover strap locks, and some of those white felt washers (I have a bunch of 'em 'round here somewhere). It has a modern bridge, a fret job, a decent case (with keys, of all things), a setup for heavy-gauge roundwounds (I'll have to fix that), an extra set of new strings, the original bridge (in the case), a Lindy Fralin ham-backer (I'm a believer in the Lindy's hand-wound creations)--the original single-coil pickup is also in the case. I was looking for a twangier toned bass, and this one delivers--I haven't fingered it out enough to use it for BLC yet, but it's tempting. We're doing just fine with the ultra-dark JZ tone on the orange one (with over-wound Lindys).

It was cool to get an instrument that I've had on my list, and meet another local player. None of my friends actually know much about bass guitars (everyone I know plays guitar, it seems). Certainly, my pals appreciate good bass tone, but how to obtain it is sort of mysterious to them. Along those lines, I love the title of this post, even if I think that it's lame to not do your own electronics.

</bass nonsense>

After picking up the bass, I went to Tito's show. I saw Spoke Shaver (Josh Cool's new band, not what I expected, but I need to tap his luthier skills for this damn Rick) as well as Lonesome Tommy and His Lovely Lushes (looking forward to a full-band at the Meadowlark). LRC got zapped by an energy vampire and wasn't coherent enough for any more, which was a bummer because the harmonium rock afterwards looked very very very interesting to me.

Today, I cleaned house and took it easy. Then, I went to rehearsal. We ran through the set for Saturday, and basically rocked. We haven't played together as a band in a non-writing or recording session in several months, and there was only one significant stumble (which we played through--Greg was distracting me--I fucked up a chorus on one of the "hits"). It's nice to be playing with a solid group that doesn't really get cobwebs. I think that the key is that we're focusing evenly on new material as well as old material for the show. The new, old, new, old format is great for the set. I'm so excited to play a 'real' show since our last three were "events." Indeed, this one is an event, too, it appears, but it's at our "home" venue. It's going to be fun.

<recording angst>

Apparently, my Hammond parts from Friday are going to be kept, even though I 'bout had a nervous breakdown recording 'em ('how the fuck am I going to get there from here'--it was totally slow-motion playing). It almost sounds like I had lessons, so that paid off for mom (truly a funny story), but it's so damn legato and liturgical that it's not exciting by any means. I'm holding down eight finger chords and paralyzed with terror while I await the next measure--it wasn't relaxed at all. I don't even know the names of the chords--minor sevenths with suspended fourths or something--I nailed the last chord, which is what matters for the song (is he going to beat her?). Tension and release and then, maximum tension (Gm + Gmaj, interpolated and arpreggiated, and lots of tremolo/vibrato on both).

</recording angst>

More Jacked Back Tales.

Apparently, "driving trucks is the worst thing that you can do for your back," according to the D.O. I totally did a number tossing a 250# tire into the pickup truck. Apparently, my outer muscles are way stronger than the core (my gooey center isn't as cool as I thought), and torsion my spine and ribs (wow). Then, I get spasms that roll right into the inflammation which causes those odd, shooting, nerve-pinchers. I was essentially beyond repair today, so I got a shot of something heavy (metallic taste in my mouth now), and more prescriptions (whoot), and excercises (sweet). If I can walk and sleep, I'll be happy with some pain. Neither of those items is going well currently.

So much for trying to ween myself out of the doctor's office, right? And weening from the prescription drugs, well, I wasn't tryin' to get off of them (lots cheaper than liquor, and with much the same effect).

A New Physician.

Since I really screwed up my back last week, I was supposed to go to a follow up visit with my 'regular doctor' this week. I explained to the urgent care doctor that I had issues with my doctor (totally a quack in my opinion; the incorrect diagnosis with my chode issues was a deal-breaker), and that I'd appreciate the name of a good 'new doctor'. She thought that a sports medicine/family practice doctor would best meet my needs (I'm so so athletic, as everyone knows; hee hee hee). I didn't want to, but I scheduled an appointment for today.

I didn't really want to go, but I'm still having some issues--all of this heavy lifting is for the birds. I'm almost good on Monday mornings--but I get to recover on the weekends.

I showed up, and there weren't droves of octogenarians (freaked me out). There weren't dumb ugly chicks at the desk--only nice twenty-somethings. Black Sabbath (WAR PIGS?!? I was blown away) was playing on the overhead PA speaker (loudly). The two young ladies were very nice. In fact, after completing my paperwork, I didn't even have horrible hypertension (180/110 last week; 140/80 this week). Then, I waited for a couple of minutes.

As it turns out, the doctor is a fairly young guy; only slightly older than me, if that. He checked out my back, and, as it turns out, it's actually my fat ass that's spasmodic, and that inflammation has pinched the nerves that innervate my legs. Sweet--that might explain the constant pain. Apparently, my pelvis is all screwed up, too--he didn't say that it was broken, but that it could have been (unbeknownst to me), because it's pretty damn crooked (some x-rays might elucidate, but I want to get all good on the cheap). He seems to think that I'm fixable, and I'm all for it, because this chronic pain is fucking up my mood, seriously (ask LRC, or my handful of friends--you have to experience chronic pain to understand it. I'm actually a lot more not nice and 'eat shit' when I'm focusing on my pain). Luckily, playing music seems to cure me (it just distracts me). Now that I'm relegated to a single band, I can't get my pain fix, and have to do up the 'scripts. Oh well, I'm off-topic....

Next, he started with the grappling. I was like, "Whoa, dude, you're getting all Hulk Hogan on my ass" (funniest thing I've written recently). It freaked me out, for real. I didn't know that I was in a wrestling ring (it looked like a cheesy doctor's office, complete with magazines featuring Randy Jackson). As it turns out, dude was inclined to get chiropractic training after he had a rather desperate injury--he was in pain and willing to let another man beat him up to cure him.

I don't think that I've ever heard such sounds from the bones. I require a girl to walk on my back. A naked, hot, Asian girl...

So, I now have a family practice/chiropractor as my PCP. I think that I'm 3" taller, too. That wrestling shit really made me feel a lot better. He doubled my prescription for Flexeril, too (whoop--I really just need to keep a supply on-hand).

As it turns out, I require a "butt massage", seriously. How funny is that?!? That'll be one of my pickup lines. I also require heavy muscle relaxants and too much (makes me sick) NSAIDs. I'm so not sold of them because they hurt my stomach. I want something that will interact with the Flexeril, so I won't even have to drink.

I love pills.

Ha ha.

Remember this shit? Get this, from the Longmont Times-Call:

Suspected ambulance thief tries to kill himself

By Scott Rochat
Longmont Times-Call

BOULDER — A man suspected of stealing an ambulance in Lafayette and leading police on a high-speed chase tried to hang himself in his jail cell Friday, according to the Boulder County Sheriff’s Office.

A deputy found Micky Terry, 35, hanging from a bedsheet in his cell at the Boulder County Jail at about 1:43 p.m., deputies said.

Terry initially had been placed on suicide watch after his arrest but was taken off it after meeting with mental health professionals Thursday. But as a new inmate, Terry was still being checked every 30 minutes, according to Sheriff Joe Pelle.

“The deputy that found him was pretty shaken,” Pelle said. “But he did everything he was supposed to do. He picked him up and held him off the ground to keep the pressure off (Terry’s) neck until he could cut him down.”

Deputies and jail staff performed CPR, then Terry was taken to Boulder Community Hospital in serious condition.

Terry was arrested Tuesday and booked Wednesday on charges of motor vehicle theft and felony eluding. He is suspected of stealing an ambulance in Lafayette on Tuesday, beginning a police chase that ended when the ambulance crashed in south Longmont.

The Tuesday incident began when Weld County deputies looked in on Terry at a Del Camino motel after receiving a tip that he was suicidal, according to the Weld County Sheriff’s Office. Paramedics took him to Exempla Good Samaritan Hospital in Lafayette, where he was discharged at 12:30 p.m.

According to authorities, Terry made his way through the parking lot to the ambulance bay and found an unlocked ambulance with keys inside. They say he then took off in the ambulance and was pursued by Lafayette police, the Colorado State Patrol and Boulder County deputies until the ambulance crashed near the intersection of Ken Pratt Boulevard and Sunset Street.

Terry was treated at Longmont United Hospital on Tuesday night and was taken to the Boulder County Jail on Wednesday.

Even if he had stayed on suicide watch, Pelle said, only 23 minutes elapsed between the last time Terry was checked and when he was found. Under a suicide watch, checks are made about every 15 minutes.

“I’m not sure that seven minutes would have made any difference,” Pelle said.

The jail usually has six to 12 suicide attempts a year, Pelle said. Over the past five years, two inmates at the jail have committed suicide, he said.

“Deputies and jail staff did a great job responding to this,” Pelle said.