Good For What Ails Me

I’ve had some kind of bug messing with me for most of the year. Here’s how it goes.  I went to the dentist, he scratched about, bit of bleeding from the gouging, nothing bad.  I use some major-league mouth wash, rinse with salt-water (I’d call it saline but I used to have that for contact lenses and it’s a bit different)… I do all the right stuff.  But it triggers some gum soreness, then goes to the lumpy glands in my throat, then to my armpit where the enlarged and painful glands press on nerve clusters causing pain across my arm and chest, where it lingers for weeks.
 
Or at least that’s my self-diagnosis.
 
(I’ve watched a lot of House MD)
 
It goes away for a bit, then comes back.
 
So, I saw the GP about it earlier in the year; had an x-ray of my manly chest to rule out lung cancer (and other things I’ll ‘neee-nawwww’ through, if possible), got a warning about smoking, and life,  but no antibiotics.  Stopping smoking cures all my ills, apparently. 
 
I was contemplating going back there and talking to a doctor as I’m of an age that I got a text from them telling me I should get a flu shot, and getting the full works.  But I’ve been down there recently with my ex, writing poems in the waiting room (waiting for her to have her appointment with the alcohol detox team), and everyone’s got some kind of virus – they’re either v&d or ent or all the acronyms rolled into one – and it’s an unhealthy place to linger for a man who’s prone to infections.
 
Whilst they say viruses and biotics are different critters I’m not so sure.  People can have both.
 
This ear infection I'm left with sounds like 1940s radio, slightly behind the beat.  Joe Meek-esque reverbs sounding like the soundtrack to murders.  It’s not good.
 
But instead of going the official route I put out the word on the street, among my posse and crews, that I needed the hard stuff, the off-prescription meds that would sort me out, clean me up, and I’ve been collecting.  I’ve got broad-spectrum and targeted; I’ve even got something especially for leg pus.  Some of it is a bit out of date but penicillin doesn’t go off, obviously, as my urine smells as bad as I remember from childhood dosages.
 
Perhaps I’m burning out my kidneys.
 
But I’m going to kill it all and damn the bad karma.  I’m a singer of tunes, how am I supposed to suffer the indignity of partial deafness and gated verb?  It’s hard enough for me to hit some-of-the-notes some-of-the-time without enduring a further disability. It’s like hallucinating without the fun; and with none of the mystery of speaking in tongues. 
 
It's not big or clever, and don't try this at home.  Misusing prescription drugs is a Class C criminal offence and I could get into a lot of trouble.  I might be tortured and beaten into giving up the names of my suppliers for a deal with the authorities.  Lives could be ruined.
 
But at least I could listen to tunes again, and play my guitar.
CrookedMan CrookedMan
46-50
Dec 14, 2012