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Seething Cakes of Hatred

Making pancakes, as I learned at AP's birthday bash at the beach this weekend, is an unbelievably tedious chore. I don't know why I...

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

I Took Two Aspirin, But I Can't Call You In The Morning

When I first discovered I had Attention Deficit Disorder, I decided I'd better do something about it, so I started researching all sorts of options for treatment.

My first thought was that I needed to go to a concentration camp, but then I learned that it's not what it sounds like. I am so thankful I didn't sign up. After I abandoned that idea, I figured I would just take medication to help me concentrate. But I can't remember the name of my doctor, and I can't find his number.

I'm serious. I have no memory of my doctor. I saw him two years ago when I bruised my ribs wrestling with this guy at a party, which I remember quite clearly, of course. Every detail. Every muscle and tight hold, thank you very much. Anyway, I know my doctor's name is something like "Tom Sawyer". He definitely shares a name with one of Mark Twain's characters. I looked up Huckleberry Finn in the Portland phone book, and there was no listing, so I know that's not it. Then I found a Becky Thatcher, but I know for sure my doctor had a penis. (I figured it was only fair that I grab him back.)

So now I am stuck without a doctor and don't know what to do. There is something wrong with my feet, and I have no idea who I need to see about my condition. At first I thought I had athlete's foot, but I am starting to think it is a little more serious. My feet hurt a lot, and they burn when I am trying to fall asleep at night. The skin on my feet looks like it is disintegrating in places. (I'm sure you don't want to hear about it, but I want to talk about it so you are out of luck.) Do I have a flesh-eating virus? The rest of my skin is fine. Only my foot skin is going away.

Maybe I am just being paranoid. But, I once saw this documentary in school, and they showed all these horrible medical conditions experienced by people in Africa. I am not sure what the class was. I am pretty sure it wasn't typing class. Anyway, there was a man with elephantitis, and some woman with an awful disease caused by walking barefoot in the mud. Worms that lived in the mud went into her foot and just started eating her or something. I don't remember walking in the mud, lately, so I am hoping I don't have what she had.

But I am tired of my feet hurting, and I worry that if I don't go to a doctor soon I won't have any skin left on my feet. Just bones. And, although it might be fun to pull of my shoes at parties and show off my skeleton feet, I doubt anybody would want to sleep with me ever again. If people hate sleeping with someone who has cold feet, can you imagine how undesirable they would find someone with skeleton feet?

I don't like sharing this ugly side of myself, but I don't know what else to do. I can't remember my doctor's name, so I am hoping he will read this and get in touch with me.

What were we talking about?

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