Separation Anxiety

So, that was a good tour for the band, but a shitty tour for me personally. I've separated my shoulder. Partially. I don't quite understand the disctinction, because I believe if it's a full separation, it's a dislocation. Regardless of labelling the injury, it hurts like a sonofabitch.

Life Rule #571: It is foolish to drive (run a vehicle over a partially even surface - this does not apply in Quebec) for approximately 40 hours with a separated shoulder. It makes it hurt more. And really, that's just like setting a drowning man on fire; difficult and unneccessary.

I explained to my doctor the situation and he didn't want to give me percocet. Fair enough. When I asked why he said, that although it seemed a bit dramatic, people have serious problems not taking them after they're done their prescription. Fair enough. So what did he give me instead? Morphine. Seriously. Why not just give me heroin or crack?

Life Rule #572: Morphine kind of sucks. Although the pain does diminish severly, there is a new set of problems that arise. 1. The constant state of vague (or, when coupled with motion sickness, severe) nausea that accompanies the lack of pain. 2. The overwhelming need to sleep somewhere between 18-20 hours a day. 3. The incredibly decreased desire for food and the subsequent exportation of food from the human body. Super.

Now, I'm just waiting. I have to see a specialist and then another specialist who will probably refer me to a specialist. I wouldn't be surprised if someone from NASA wants to have a look at my shoulder before too long.

Here's what's really going to happen. I'm going to wait 8-10 months and then they're (it's difficult to say which specialist will make the cut at this point) going to cut me open and carve my shoulder up (again) like a Thanksgiving turkey. Put that in your horn of plenty.