More making with the words with a French fried brain.
Oh well. I talked with Ray from Coastal Sleep just now and we are on for 1:10 pm on Wednesday to get me some brand new CPAP stuff that could potentially make a massive difference in my life.
No more waking up all addlepated from hyper REM-dense sleep accompanied by smothering dozens of times an hour.
Can you imagine that?
Heck, if the stars align and God grants me mercy, I might even start waking up feeling better than when I went to sleep.
Seems impossible but science says it can’t be ruled out.
There have even been rumours that it is theoretically possible to wake up feeling fully rested, relaxed, and ready to face the day.
That has almost never happened in my life. Even when I was a relatively healthy teen, waking up was always a slow and somewhat unpleasant experience.
The number times I have woken up feeling rested and relaxed and good could be counted on one hand and it’s always been something that happened out of the blue like a passing angel decided to throw me a bone.
The idea of increasing those odds is tantalizing. It seems almost too good to be possible, like Xmas all year round or returning to childhood.
Not that I’d want to return to MY childhood. It sucked.
Then again, at least I would be young again. And I would bring all that I have learned and a much tougher attitude toward life and some really primo stock tips.
Might make a better go of it the second time around.
And the erotic possibilities are amazing. Having adult lust in a child’s body could actually be kind of fun.
There must be some other “weird” kids in my home town. Ones with unusual upbringings that opened them up to certain possibilities.
And it’s perfectly legal for kids to “play doctor”.
Plus I could always try to find a friendly neighborhood pedophile.
Best move on before I incriminate myself further.
Today’s IV antibiotics sesh had a bumpy start. First there were no chairs free when
I got there, so I had to sit in the hall for a bit.
The nurses were a tad embarrassed about that. Fair enough.
Then Nurse Nola caused a bit of a tangle-up when she accidentally wrote down my vitals in the wrong chart as well as ordering bloodwork from the lab on the wrong day.
Both mistakes were discovered when the phlebotomist showed up to draw my blood and I was not the person whose blood she was supposed to be getting.
I knew that was going to happen because as far as I knew, my bloodwork was scheduled for tomorrow so it would be ready for Wednesday’s talk with Dr, Vortel.
I hate to say it, but I think Nurse Nola might be getting a little senile. And nurses have to stay sharp because they have so much information to deal with and it’s all important.
Nurse Janice, the wound care nurse, was there and decided to take a look at my wound while my dressing was being changed even though she wasn’t scheduled to see me until Wednesday afternoon.
She didn’t think there was much she could do. The wound looked pretty much exactly like it did the last time she saw it.
Because I don’t heal any more. I got zombie legs.
Oh well, Life goes on. Hope I live long enough to get healthy.
More after the break,
The Big Baby Brain
Now that we’ve met The Trog, let’s talk about the Big Baby Brain, heretofore referred to by the handy mnemonic BBB, or 3B.
3B is comprised of a brain the size of a small asteroid and a human sized vestigial body clad only in a massively padded cloth diaper.
And all the Galaxy agrees that 3B is the smartest, wisest, kindest, most caring, most compassionate, and most just plain good being alive.
Leaders in crisis come from every part of the Galaxy, from the bionuclear unipods from farthest tip of the longest spiral arm to those strange high-energy beings that eat gravity from the glowing heart of the Galaxy, come to 3B for solutions to their crises.
They do this knowing the proceedings will be public and all will know of both their problem and 3B’s solution.
Thus, a certain sacrifice of pride may be involved.
And 3B always listens carefully then with great sensitivity and compassion and then offers a solution that all who apprehend it immediately know to be brilliant, morally perfect, and fundamentally correct.
Other than that, 3B steadfastly refuses to offer any opinion on anything happening in the Galaxy except when the people involved come ask him.
When not solving people’s problems, the 3B contemplates the Galaxy and the role of sentient life in it, its vast mind gently and unobtrusively sampling the thoughts and emotions of all living things and building its picture of the universe from that.
Truly, 3B is a holy being, and an enormous force for good in the Galaxy.
But there’s a reason for the diaper, and that’s because 3B has almost no sense of what is happening around it, or even in its own body.
In terms of wisdom, it is a titan.
In terms of morality, it is an angel.
In terms of basic awareness, it is an infant.
Thus, its continued existence is contingent on its thousands of followers and attendants and worshippers who work tirelessly to take care of the 3B’s most basic needs.
Without them, the 3B would starve to death covered in its own filth. And it is (dimly, but sincerely) aware of this and grateful for it.
Thus, 3B is both magnificent and pathetic. Both wise and clueless. It is all powerful, and completely helpless. It knows all but can’t even tell when it is hungry.
To it, all biological demands are mysterious random afflictions that it neither understands nor knows how to solve or prevent.
It is a god. It is a saint. It is a perfect being.
And it shits itself many times a day.
Truly, a study in contrasts.
And from just the right angle, it looks a lot like me.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.