What’s the ABSOLUTELY BEST thing you can do for someone who’s just found out her rheumatoid arthritis is kicking in again?
Why not make her climb the fucking weird-ass stairs to the creepy 2nd floor so she can try to make the fricockta PIECE OF ELEPHANT SHIT computers work? And while we’re at it, let’s make sure the problem is a little bit different from last time, thereby requiring a different solution, thereby requiring her to climb up there not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES? I’m telling you, the very next thing that goes wrong with this damn network, I’mown fix it. WITH A BAT.
Now a Crippled-Up-Update (Crippledup-date? Let’s work on that): Y’all have all been so great and supportive about my impending journey into the intricacies of the White Man’s Medicine, I just can’t tell you how much it means. I. Love. All. Y’all. And I’ll keep you up to date on any progress — I’m pretty optimistic about seeing the rheumatologist, actually. After all, the last time I had these problems was about 20 years ago, and the only meds they could give you SUUUUUUUUUCKED. The docs were like, “So, kidneys, you’ve got two, right?” and “How often do you really use your liver?” So hopefully there’s better shit nowadays!
Love y’all, mean it,