What ho! Just when I was thinking of calling a vacation planner, aural reality slapped me right up side the head. Must be quick - A) have to call Estate Planner and B)
My unusually acute hearing aptitude-curse has delivered the 'final vinyl' message via - you guessed - our helpful/watchful/ever-informative well being observers who herald all manner of hellish outcomes should one NOT heed their on-air heralding.
It seems, whilst we were all basking in the mundane superficiality of Summer Buffoonery - at the beach, under a tree, softly swaying in a hammock, reading, dreaming, or just contemplating the usual when/wheres of humankind's universal demise subsequent to some errant, maniacal button-pusher - "They" (let's not go there) have discovered that unsuspecting, formerly suffering-but-recently-treated folks who had 'infused, man-made, discs' inserted surgically between their spinal vertebrae, are at a decided risk of ominous consequences.
Surely, it is now sadly clear as to why I may not tarry in delivering/performing this - what may/will/could be my final scene. (please see "While You Were Away from My Desk", I think, things are already blurring) Numbered among the recipients of these fiendish albeit mobility/quality-of-life-preserving medical instrumentalities, I am at best distressed to learn that they have been seen to cause extreme difficulty breathing and THE INABILITY TO SPEAK. (drop page)
"If you have recently undergone a procedure involving these infused discs, you may be entitled to compensation." (drop page) "Call 1.877. BAD.DISC now where experienced legal professionals are waiting to help in your quest for justice, money, the American Way. . ." (drop page) I THINK memory loss may have been another side effect but I can't recall. Confusion was definitely in that march-to-oblivion army and, as you can read, our on-air benefactors know their shtuff.
Suffice it to type, then (the 'eliding' issue is becoming distracting - even for the elide-r), I want you, my friends, my readers, to know that should I make it to Thursday and Pittsburgh and the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center Hospital for my three month post-op follow up visit, I shall:
1. Be certain that Dr. David, who returned my life to me, has heard the news;
2. Remember to bring fliers with the appropriate advisory data to pass out (or if I already have), casually leave among the 'for-your-health' reading materials in the waiting area and
3. After kissing the scalpel hand of The Man, vow to utilize any/all vehicles at my disposal to put an end to THESE FEAR- MONGERING SUPPOSEDLY BONA FIDE MEDICAL "WARNING" BALDERDASH DISTRIBUTERS' DAEMONIC TACTICS!
Have a nice, healthy day; take good care of yourself and don't take accept any wooden nickels or well-meaning advisories seriously. Ever. Later, Lorane. . . .
