No, not substance abuse rehab as family, friends, and favorite bartenders might think, but physical rehab in a "skilled nursing facility."
Lower back locked up and left me unable to stand from sitting position, making it hard to live life much less ger off the damn floor.
Oh welll, ain't nuthin' but a thang--unrelated to what some deem my disability, due to middle age actually. Have a cracked L5 verrebrae as if had worked construction for whole life. Situation seems ironic since carrying concrete block as a kid convinced me to buck up and finish college to get white collar work.
Even office work, however, came fraught with danger and injury by paper cut or even sraple stabbing.
All of these years of hard drinking made me think my liver would kill me, not have problem with my kidneys.
Oh, not to end up moaning in seeming pain like lady down the hall in angst but more as a child seeking attention for she stops when I enter the room, or perhaps just burdened with the most basic of human needs: to not feel alone and have a hand to hold. Not all can live as der Steppenwolf as do I, rhe lone wolf of the steppes.
Or not to live as the old thread of a lady encountered yesteday, bent over and gibbering in unknown tonngues, answeriung voices only she can hear.
Lord, Jesus, thanks for making me happier even with bent body and cynical and critical higher brain functions intact.
(This computer hates me but will place links for videos attempted to insert below: http://youtu.be/2NPPe6MiUlE, http://youtu.be/pdEvL6jxUYA.)
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