the life of zooey who happens to be Bipolar 2
Getting stoned vs. getting stones are two very different things. Getting stone today brings up songs by Rainy Day Women #12 & 35 by Bob Dylan, Sweet Leaf by Black Sabbath or Kaya by Bob Marley. 4/20 y’all. Legalization and trips to Colorado. Sweet relief for those in pain from illness or other life tragedies.
Getting stones is a whole other matter. Not collecting, but manufacturing them in our own kidneys. Whether by drinking too much crap or blunt trauma or a family tendencies, those fuckers hurt like hell.
Annnnd enter my sorry ass. Yeah, they thought maybe kidney stones. I was going to blame my colleague, Jeff. He was diagnosed with kidney stones about a week ago. He has them in his family so he was not surprise. I DON’T have them in my family, so I was. Initially, I told Jeff I was blaming him if it were true that I had kidney stones, too.
So in a traipse for a CT Scan. Strip off any metal, because that shit will fuck you up (check out metal experiments below). I then put on these crazy big hospital pants and eased (because jumping anywhere at this point was NOT going to happen) on the table. Then my flatbed moved back and forth while a non-committal female voice said “Take a deep breath. Now, hold it, Breathe normally” with my hands positioned above my head in a weird dance pose.
And with the magic that is modern science, pictures of my innards! Diagnosis? No stones. Instead, it is musculoskeletal in nature by the spine. Anti-inflammatory and Muscle relaxer meds instead.
Sometimes bad things turn out to be no so bad. I can deal with that.
Legs like jelly,