Severe back spasm, plus a kidney infection. Together, they mean I spent a jolly few hours in the ER at my local hospital, had a CT scan, and got a lovely little syrette of morphine that felt so very, very good because it was the first time I wasn't shrieking in agony all day long. I now have a script for Percocet, a script for Cipro
a car with cop brakes, cop transmission, and cop shocks, and instructions to rest for the rest of the weekend. I also have great appreciation for electronic medical records, since all the ER needed was my Social Security number and they had all my past records AND my insurance information, which meant I didn't have to get up from lying flat on the floor moaning like a woman faking labor in a bad TV show.
To make up for the Diary That Wasn't Because I Was Howling and Writhing and Shrieking in Pain, I am hereby announcing that there will be a special, bonus diary from me on July 4th. And though I'm sure you will all be weeping, wailing, throwing ashes on your heads and wearing sackcloth that it is not the long-threatened Captain America - Socialist Scum!, let me tell you that it will be patriotic, heartfelt, and very worth your time.
So...on July 4th, watch this space for a diary I'm calling Walt Evans' War.
I think you'll like it.