Three middle fingers

... A dispatch from bewilderness

A while back I was feeling down about fill in the blanks so I stuck up all three of my middle fingers. No, I don't really have three middle fingers, but I was on hydrocodone and hydrocodone can make almost anything seem like almost anything else. That is called delusion.

A few weeks ago, a surgeon streamed cement into my spine. This was called kyphoplasty and was for two broken bones. Then I broke three more. The next kyphoplasty is now set for May 30.

According to Neurosurgeon One, the bones in my spine are like styrofoam. According to Surgeon Two, they’re like sponges. Both surgeons agree the only potentially lasting treatment would be to insert a steel rod and screws. They also agree on something else. You can’t insert either into bones that resemble sponges or styrofoam.

Fyi, in normal life I don't stick up any middle fingers ever because it's not a nice thing to do. But normal life is not a life I know a whole lot about. After all, in my first life I was a freelance writer which pretty much cancels out normal right there. Then I was a ghost. That cancels out “normal” entirely.

Ghost writers write so our clients, who tend to be icons and legends, are supposed to sound like they mean what they're saying even if they don't. That cancels out normal too. But that's a ghost writing secret that I would never reveal on Substack or anywhere else. Unless I was distressed. Which I am.

Here’s why. In the last six weeks, five bones broke in my spine. I have been on bone density medications for sixteen years. Infusions and injections. The endocrinologist who prescribed this is “satisfied” with the treatment. Even though it didn’t work. Now she is prescribing a new treatment to add to the old treatment. It costs $2000 a day. That is $700,000 a year. Insurance won’t cover it.