Monday, May 07, 2018

Knee then tummy; repeat

Last night I wrenched my knee by using it in a normal knee fashion. I can't ride for a while. My IBS is flared from meds. So I have a hot water bottle I am alternating between spots to help arrest discomfort. Maybe my body is a singularity? It seems to keep collapsing in on itself.

The other night I was talking with a fellow hip replacementee whose hip was replaced due to age. She asked why I had mine done so early and I said "Gestational malformation. But, hey, it was the '70s, it could have been worse; she could have been chugging thalidomide."

It was the first time I'd publically and naturally spoken of my womb-fucked skeleton with a breezy comedic twist.

Maybe that's part of the journey to acceptance; that it could have been worse given the era? That to get away with a potato body that doesn't work quite right is a far better result that other '70s warped-in-the-womb kids faced such as no arms or legs.

Better than a poke in the eye with a burnt stick so they say.

I wonder if superheroes shooting the breeze make light of their painful origin stories---like comics telling other comics about their first time at stand-up? "There I was, cleaning up a toxic spill from VillainCorp and I got struck by lightning---it was like fire shooting out of my mouth and arse at the same time but for ten hours. Deeply fucked up." (slurps hero-endorsed energy drink).

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