Mine is a little obtuse so here goes. 2 years ago I got health insurance so I got to join the ranks of "pain management patients" instead of just being some grouchy old coot that most folks didn't know was in a lot of pain. One Saturday in 1990, I planted my foot to step down to the first step, and the plant foot didn't plant. I landed on the edge of the 4th step down with the middle of my back making first contact. Heard it crack, sounded like a chicken leg bone breaking, which was what I was going out for when I fell. Took me almost 45 minutes to get up and crawl back in the house. Monday morning I had to decide whether to go to work or the hospital and wind up homeless. Homeless became the better option in 2003.
That's when I found out that I had a bone (L1) in my back that was broken into 3 pieces and the fractures have calcified and won't mend on their own. But, it's not all bad. The worst part of the recent surgery was getting the docs to understand that I needed what I was asking for just to get to the point that their Dilaudid, morphine, etc. would work for the surgical pain.
Yep, I'm grouchy sometimes and sometimes I turn into that Neanderthal Bugs, but I really am a Bugs Bunny kinda guy at heart. Sorry for the rant.
