February 2, 2005

  • Like a 3rd century Roman emperor, when weak, I’ve come to expect the attempt of knives thrust into my back.

     And I am weak.  Currently nearly incapacitated by extreme neck spasms that have left me unable to turn my head at all.  Strangely, I cannot recall an initiating injury.  Rather, I awoke the other day with neck pangs, thick mucousy saliva,  and a mild impairment of my sense of taste.  Though thus bothered, I proceeded with my plans for the day nonetheless.  Yet as the day progressed, my range of motion became less and less.  Unquantifiably impacting were three slips on black ice that day: one that put me down,  the other two scattered my balance in mutually opposing directions. 

    Ah, the ice was stabbing me in the back.

    So did the slips break me?  Or…am I suffering manifestations of some mysterious illness?



    Now I’m facing a second day of not working.  And a second day of pulsating, nearly incapacitating pain.



    I’m determined for this not to continue.



    I shall will myself to heal.  Will myself to heal.  And be stronger than before.

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