Received: from [95.211.226.61] (port=48951 helo=millionslumens.com) by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with esmtp (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cPFzN-0007AM-6H for lojban@lojban.org; Thu, 05 Jan 2017 13:54:29 -0800 Date: Thu, 05 Jan 2017 15:19:05 -0700 Subject: Must have flashlight everyone is calling the greatest gadget ever, order 18831781 To: Message-ID: <9613495749_c2c7e55fbfda4353ca10c7b6e541eeed9613495749nclojban@lojban.org.96> Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit Mime-Version: 1 From: "Beverly Stone" X-Spam-Score: -0.4 (/) X-Spam_score: -0.4 X-Spam_score_int: -3 X-Spam_bar: / make your life
In 2017
Everyone Will Need One

When it was released earlier this morning, it is selling out faster then any other gadget ever made.

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Its incredible what pain does to the human mind. At night in particular, you lie there, unable to sleep, hallucinating, thinking the most insane things. At one point, for instance, I began to fantasise about having my leg amputated. I imagined having a prosthetic limb instead of the throbbing, bloated one I now had and was actually comforted by the thought. Another time, I was limping through the car park in a local supermarket when I saw a wheelchair, sitting there unoccupied. A man was lowering a hydraulic ramp on the back of a small van, from where, I assumed, the chairs owner would soon be helped out. The thought of being able to travel around without having to put any weight on my foot was really tempting. For a split second, I thought about stealing it. I was ashamed of myself the moment the idea entered my head. As I lay there in a kind of fever some nights, I also found myself thinking more and more about Bob, or more specifically, losing Bob. The worse my leg became, the more I became convinced that he was ready to leave. I imagined him in the company of the old man next door, being pampered and fussed over. I pictured him lying on the sunny roof at Belles without a worry in the world while I hobbled off to sell The Big Issue on my own. It wasnt such a leap of the imagination. Back at Belles I was spending more and more time on my own, lying in my room asleep. As a result, I had less patience for Bob than usual. Hed sidle up to me on the bed, waiting to play catch with some treats, but Id fail to respond. Sometimes he would try to d himself around my leg, which I found unbearable. By now my leg was a violent, red colour and the pain was relentless. Go away and play somewhere else, Bob, Id say, brushing him to one side. Hed reluctantly slide off me and head out of the bedroom door, throg me a disappointed look as he went. It was hardly a surprise that he was starting to look elsewhere for affection, I told myself afterwards. Im not much of a friend to him at the moment. I knew it wasnt helping anyone, least of all myself, but I didnt know what to do to dig myself out of the black hole that had been slowly consuming me these past few weeks. One morning, however, I woke up and decided that enough was enough. I simply had to do something about it. I didnt care what the doctors thought about me and my past: I wanted some answers, I wanted this problem to go away. I got dressed, grabbed my crutch and headed for the local surgery, determined to have a proper examination. Thats an interesting crutch you have there, Mr Bowen, the doctor said when I turned up in the consulting room. Necessity is the mother of invention, I said, sticking the weatherbeaten pole in the corner and climbing on to the examination table where he began casting an eye over my thigh and leg. This doesnt look too good. You need to keep pressure off that leg for a week or so. Can you take time off work? he asked me. No, not really. I sell The Big Issue, I told him. OK, well you need to see what you can do to keep your foot elevated at all times, he said. I also need you to have whats known as a DDimer blood test which looks for clotting in the blood cells. I suspect thats where your problems lie. OK, I said. Now, what are we going to do about this crutch of yours? I think we can do better than a tree branch, he said. No chance of a wheelchair? I said, suddenly remembering the one Id seen in the car park. Afraid not. But I could offer you a decent set of crutches while we try to get this swelling and inflammation down. By the end of the morning I was the proud owner of a pair of proper metallic crutches, complete with rubber grips, arm holders and shock absorbers. I was soon clunking my way around with my legs flailing in front of me. I was acutely conscious of the way it must have looked. I felt silly, even sillier than Id looked with a pole under my arm. I could feel what people were thinking about me. It was depressing. The time for feeling sorry for myself was over, however. I didnt waste any time and went to have the blood test done the follog day. It wasnt that straightforward, of course. Taking a blood sample from a recovering heroin addict is easier said than done. The practice nurse at the clinic asked me to roll up my sleeve but when she tried to find a vein she failed miserably. Hmmm, lets try this other arm instead, she said. But it was the same again. We exchanged a look that spoke volumes. I didnt need to spell it out. Maybe I should do it, I said. She gave me a sympathetic look and handed me the needle. Once Id found a vein in my leg, I let her extract the sample. The humiliations of being a recovering addict were endless, but I wasnt going to let that deter me. A couple of days later when I rang the clinic the female doctor confirmed my worst suspicions. She told me that I had developed a deep vein thrombosis, or DVT. You have a blood clot which Id like to have further investigated. So I need you to go to University College Hospital for an ultrasound test, she told me. In a way it was a relief. Id always suspected Id caused myself a problem on those long flights to and from Australia. Looking back on it I could see that Id suppressed the thought for all sorts of silly reasons, partly because I hadnt wanted to sound paranoid but partly also because I hadnt wanted to have my suspicions confirmed. I knew that DVTs could cause all sorts of problems, particularly coronary ones, strokes in particular.
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