Incurable

I went to see Dr. Quack today. He needs help with x-rays. He said I have a twisted navicular bone. No wonder my foot hurts.

I once researched navicular bones in horses. I had a horse that I suspected had Navicular Disease. It's this little tiny bone just above the hoof that is in contact with a tendon that goes all the way into the hoof. Sometimes the bone shifts out of its place and puts pressure on the tendon, causing it to become inflamed. And then the horse goes lame. It's one of those things that becomes a condition, and eventually the bone starts to decay and then you're screwed. Without proper care, a horse with this condition will never be rideable and will most likely end up in the glue factory. It's awful.

And now I have it. Or at least some strange human version of it. Dr. Quack didn't have any ideas on how to fix it. He only had ways to make it hurt less. So I'm afflicted with something that has no real cause or treatment. Only a "we'll try this and see what happens" regimen. It doesn't really surprise me that much. Weird shit like this happens to me all the time. But I can't help but think about that horse I used to have.

Maybe I'm ruined too.

I should probably be led behind the barn and put out of my misery. Because I'm lame. And I'm ruined. And no one wants a lame ruined chick. There is no Chick Rescue organization out there trying to find homes for poor chicks that are unusable anymore. There is no one that is trying to find them a suitable place to live out the rest of their days happily.

I'm twisted and hurting and I just have to grin and bear it. And when I limp, people look at me funny and ask me about my shoes, which I hate. (see "I Love Shoes" post, October 2, 2004) There is no cure for what I have.

And for my horse with the big brown eyes and the white spot in between them, wherever you are: I feel your pain.