The Mists of Lorazapam

Me in full blown tranq-i-tude
Mister DeMille, I’m ready for my MRI now.

This week’s been hell on a hot stove, hasn’t it?

Ya know, I’d really like to go through my tumor trials without having the extra added insanity of America burning to the ground as a backdrop.

I had my third (and last, until November) stay in the claustrophobia…I mean MRI... tube on Wednesday. This means that I’ve been in a heavy lorazepam fog since Tuesday. Yes, it takes a good few days for the med to leave my wonkass system.

Frankly, this thick tranq cloud couldn’t have come at a better time. I can’t even begin to imagine how I’d cope with #BunkerBitch’s latest trampling and theft of our rights, his ongoing destruction of our environment and the obscene violence he inspires.

OK, yes, I CAN imagine – I’d have spent the week screaming. I wouldn’t have been able to stop.

The pic from Buffalo of cops knocking over a thin, old man – of his blood pooling on the sidewalk under his head as the cops stormtroopered by, really nailed me flat. If that’d been me, I wouldn’t be alive this morning to feed my cat overlords or scribble this here blog. Ma tête’s a sensitive old thing  – of course it is. I’ve had five goddamn skull slice ups, fer fuck's sake. I would be dead. 45 and his White supremacist, shit-stained storm troopers would be fine and dandy with that.

Shit’s way the fuck outta control. Go over to Shower Cap’s place for more of a This-Week-in-Hell round up.

Me, I'm just gonna post pics today.

The GORGEOUS necklace worn by my MGH intake clerk

The view from Yawkey Six

OF COURSE we stopped at Dairy Freeze on the way home! Fucking DUH!

Low tide at home