(based on actual events)
It’s taken many long months now to find the medical help I need, and can afford. As I said in my last communiqué, the mutation has begun. My knees, both of them, will no longer bend or straighten but are instead locked in a semi-bent position, much like the leg of a Gisindian Thranwort. My ankles are stiff too. They no longer pivot, which makes it difficult to keep my balance when standing. And I seem to be growing an appendage out of the tips of the fingers of my right hand. It’s hard and woody. When it reaches the floor, I could maybe use it s a cane. (I just hope it doesn’t grow through the floor.)
The thought of getting some relief has almost more than I can bear. I’ve longed for it for so long, searched and searched for medical help, prayed for the pain to go away, made offerings and donations, helped with charitable clothes drives, helped Little Older Ladies cross the street, anything to win the favor of the Gods, all for the sake of getting rid of this unbearable pain.
Finally, the Gods may have taken notice. My new doctors seem to think they know what my malady is. (They’re still blaming it on the Rheumatoids.) The bad news is, they say it’s incurable and irreversible, so they can’t kill the virus and they can’t fix the mutating it’s already done. All they can do is prevent it from mutating me more.
I’ll never be the same old me again. Sigh.
They’ve got some wacky treatments in store for me, that’s for sure. One treatment stops production of DNA. One kills off my immune system. And they aren’t sure if either method will work. In fact, we won’t know for another three years yet.
And then there are the drugs they want me to take to make my heart beat at the normal human heart-rate speed, instead of the speed of light. They also gave me a water pill, to moderate my blood pressure. And I take one Aspirin a day now, to keep my blood thin like a human’s should be, and a fancy concoction to keep my thyroid in balance.
Best of all, I’ve got better pain pills now.
It’s taken many long months now to find the medical help I need, and can afford. As I said in my last communiqué, the mutation has begun. My knees, both of them, will no longer bend or straighten but are instead locked in a semi-bent position, much like the leg of a Gisindian Thranwort. My ankles are stiff too. They no longer pivot, which makes it difficult to keep my balance when standing. And I seem to be growing an appendage out of the tips of the fingers of my right hand. It’s hard and woody. When it reaches the floor, I could maybe use it s a cane. (I just hope it doesn’t grow through the floor.)
The thought of getting some relief has almost more than I can bear. I’ve longed for it for so long, searched and searched for medical help, prayed for the pain to go away, made offerings and donations, helped with charitable clothes drives, helped Little Older Ladies cross the street, anything to win the favor of the Gods, all for the sake of getting rid of this unbearable pain.
Finally, the Gods may have taken notice. My new doctors seem to think they know what my malady is. (They’re still blaming it on the Rheumatoids.) The bad news is, they say it’s incurable and irreversible, so they can’t kill the virus and they can’t fix the mutating it’s already done. All they can do is prevent it from mutating me more.
I’ll never be the same old me again. Sigh.
They’ve got some wacky treatments in store for me, that’s for sure. One treatment stops production of DNA. One kills off my immune system. And they aren’t sure if either method will work. In fact, we won’t know for another three years yet.
And then there are the drugs they want me to take to make my heart beat at the normal human heart-rate speed, instead of the speed of light. They also gave me a water pill, to moderate my blood pressure. And I take one Aspirin a day now, to keep my blood thin like a human’s should be, and a fancy concoction to keep my thyroid in balance.
Best of all, I’ve got better pain pills now.
* * *
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