I was taken to St. Joe Hospital downtown after the attack in 2008 when some crackhead tried killing me. I had head injuries, the attacker was dead. I only have vague recollections of that incident. I was put in a CT, cat scan machine, whatever. I don't think it was an MRI. I still had handcuffs on, as I recall.
I think after accident in Nov2013 I was given full body MRI scans. My brain was mashed up, bleeding and leaking spinal fluid. My sternum (chest) was broken and my neck and back was pretty much liquified and my spleen was bleeding.
They told my wife that I wouldn't live through the night. Fuckers. I showed them.
It's much safer to have sex with MDs than it is to make an appointment with one.
That's a bit of an exaggeration, a better description might be a full spine whiplash. He spent several years with a chiropractor.
They told my wife that I wouldn't live through the night.
Correct. His wife told the staff not to give him any painkillers 'in any circumstances because he has an addictive personality' which was written off as 'a bitter' spouse. She filed for divorce before he was released from the hospital.
Jim's listed as a non-cooperative patient. He knows more than I do, he probably knew more than the quacks did that didn't have him in traction from the beginning. One of his PTs documented that.
If our friend Dakmar doesn't show up in about two minutes I'm taking him upstairs to apply some convulsive muscular therapy.
No there's something up Jim's ass. He made another one.
The only thing on his calendar is his buddy Rainman's wife's birthday tomorrow. I know he cut them off when she threatened him with jail by her daughter the cop for no reason on Memorial Day. That hurt him.
This is Pac in a nutshell.
I don't know the whole story but I can guess. He misses his buddy.
Yeah, I've probably got a hero complex. I've got the money to do it, at a much much lower level than Elon Musk...
I met Rainman at Spudz, a dive bar, not a mile up the road after my accident.
There was this dirtbag ex navy building contractor I hung around with while I was injured.
One night we were in there at the bar bullshitting and this great big guy sat in between us and started bitching about his truck burning up.
Pacman: I'm outta here.
John Miller: Wait, wait, wait!
The next day I was at River City Looking at a Longhorn Pete that had a wire-fire short from chicken lights. Marla helped, she had to bring something from my shop.
I had him on the road the next day. The die was cast. We were friends for a long time.
That ends with vaccine dementia. (Edit) Memorial Day, Monday, 2024.