But this last bout, lasting only weeks before disappearing by itself. Not before I went online and submitted my name and info to the online spinal center, to review my case, calling them later in pain, hoping for quick action, but the male technical voice says, "I've reviewed the reports, and you may have a spur, but we need to see your MRI. Do I have your permission to obtain it?"
"O my God yes, please. And hurry."
And I found out the music eased the rubbing of my leg, and my mind.
But that pain now gone, and I haven't heard a word from their center since before pain left. "Do they know it's left me? How could they know? Or are they incompetent? Or are they like a personal injury lawyer: must they have more than probable cause to proceed and the chance to make hundreds of thousands from a jury; or in this case, from my insurance company?"
No matter, as I sit here this morning with my blessed Dunkin coffee, just back from a brand new store, opened yesterday a mile from my house, the closest of 6 within a 6 mile radius. And I frequent them all depending where I am in my Civic.
My Civic, my jet. At 5 am able to blast Hanky Panky played by WOGL, the Oldies but Goodies radio station, one of many I've fallen in love with these past six months. I've been intoxicated listening to their '60s, '70s, and '80s pop hits since changing my mood and my outlook after my last manic episode less than 3 short months ago. The psychiatrists cut my meds, cut them! After 35 years of mainly the same ones. No longer on Wellbutrin anymore, an antidepressant, and functioning well in my mind since. Yes, my behavior, my impulsiveness has always, always, since a teenager, needed watching and more control. But ever-tolerant Janet keeps me in line and I love her more because of her caring.
But the music, the Music! Allowing me untold freedom to sing along loudly with hundreds of them I've heard til now, and Hanky Panky followed immediately by Hey Jude and the next gem. And the beats and the sounds thrilling my psyche, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, turning left then right and back. But it's the singers stories in their lyrics, hearing their clear and understandable words, not their indeciferable screams, that really thrills my person.
And I swear, they should have pain patients busy with earphones playing their favorite music.
And what music -- popular, R&B, country, jazz, soul, rock, African, rap, world or other(s), fills your heart?
Best, Rod
Copyright 2014
Surviving Bipolar Disorder in the modern age . . . a journey of Hope for the afflicted.
My poetic memoir Episodes available at www.amazon.com/episodes-rodney-richards/dp/0615914705/
