the clog

Wait, you're not gonna use that on me, are you?

Ach. Because of the seriousness of my migraine attacks I now have to go and check out my blood at a clinic. For those of you who have just tuned in to the wonderful cacophany that is my life, I have been suffering from migraines for the past...um...since I was 12 (I think it was 12. Might have been 13). Anyway, every coupla' years the medicine that I use needs to be upgraded. The old stuff don't cut it no more. And every coupla' years I get a protracted case of migraine. It's been 4 years since I have had an attact that lasted this long. So I probably have to go to a neurologist...again. Just to make sure that it isn't something serious like a blood clot in my brain or a Sub-Arachnoidal Hemmorhage or a tumor. Or an alien probe. *sigh* Lemme tell you: it sucks. I mean, sure I have this nagging headache still but neurology? They use x-rays and stuff there. I might become impotent! But that's not what really bothers me. What bothers me are the needles. "Hey, where are you sticking that?" is a question that doesn't seem to register with doctors. You then just watch helplessly as you have this thing stickin' outta your arm...and you're supposed to be cool about it. I could bleed to death if the do something wrong! Well, maybe not.... But seriously, am I the only one bothered by needles? Ick. I guess I should be thankful that I don't live in the Neolithic era...or even the medieval times. They did trepanning back then. I could just imagine how it would go too:

Patient A: I have a headache, Doc...
Doctor: Headache, eh? Must be because you have little demons in your head. I recommend trepanning...
Patient A: Trepanning? Isn't that where they drill a hole in your head and release the evil?
Doctor: Yes, but we don't have drills. We're a backwoods village. We use rocks instead. Now hold still.
Patient A: And this will make me better, will it?
Doctor: Absolutely. Provided you don't die...
Patient A: Die? What do you mea...Aieeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!
Doctor: Bugger. Mental note to self: use smaller rock.... Oh well. Next!
Rumoku: Erm.... It's a miracle, Doctor! My head doesn't hurt anymore. Heheh. I guess I better get back to a-wenching.... Good day, sir! (Running off to find "comfort wimmen").

Yesiree. It could be worse. Well, I'm off now. Just hope that the doctor knows what he's doing...