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4/11/04
Went to church with the in-laws. We left early enough to go to Sunday School. I was having enough difficulty talking that I didn’t contribute a thing, not that I ever do. If a Sunday School teacher wants my opinion he can ask me to write him a paper. Let’s face it, I write better than I talk. Not being terribly quick-witted I need to edit, but tonight I won’t- for reasons that will be explained shortly.

After church all of us went to eat at a restaurant in downtown Clinton. From the looks of it it’s one of the few thriving businesses there. It’s a restaurant done in a style best described as “homey.” At least it’s homey if you have a lot of pictures of country-western singers on your walls. If you don’t, you’ve still got a good idea.

The food was plentiful. To my knowledge everybody was stuffed by the time we left- everybody but me. I’ve been taking lots of Tegretol but it isn’t making the pain go away. It’s certainly keeping the pain from running away to suicide inducing levels, but most bites are rewarded with what feels like a sharp slap on the right side of the face, sometimes they’re machinegun style slaps. Anybody who has taken Psyche 101 could guess that linking pain with a behavior will result in the suppression of that behavior.

I hadn't eaten anything Saturday. Even though I have a long way to go until I appear to be wasting away it only seems sensible to eat. So I tried. I had a big plate of scrambled eggs, ham, and hash browns. Those are easy to take in small bites. I was almost halfway through when I gave up.

I had resolved to eat slowly and carefully and accept any pain that came. About every other bite hurt. After two bites in a row resulted in machinegun pain I started to cry in the middle of a packed restaurant and in front of a long table full of family. That was enough for me. Skinner was at least right at the most basic level of behavior.

Then it was on to the in-law’s where the kids had an Easter egg hunt. The wife wanted me to take pictures. Okay. There was only one problem, well two actually. First- it was so cool it was threatening to trigger the facial pain. Secondly, the kids were running as fast as they could. The jarring of running can set off, one more time, the facial pain. It’s hard to get good photos when you’re looking at their backs. I tried to anticipate their directions, but kids are rarely predictable. Oh well.

When we got home Ms. Pikachu walked over to the pantry and asked, “Hey Dad, are you hungry?” She reached in, and pulling out a can exclaimed, “Green beans, everybody loves ’em!” The kid likes a running joke, another gene she got from me. Don’t ask me how that’s genetic; I’m just sure it is.

Since I’ve hardly had a caloric intake equal to what I’ve burned for the past week the Supernurse apparently felt it was time to try something else. So she had me take a few pills left over from other treatments. Don’t worry; they aren’t anti-biotic so we aren’t risking the development of super bugs. We are talking pain pills. It won’t be long and I’ll be fast asleep. So this isn’t going to be edited at all. You’re getting a post in its raw form. It is literarily vulgar. I know- you should have been warned so you could hide the children and avert your eyes. Maybe next time. In the mean time, pardon me; I’m going to go dream of food.
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