Revisiting my Abaddon

Yesterday was not a fun day. I spent a majority of the day collecting the medical records and summary statements from my doctors and my PT as well as the records from my hospitalization last fall. I had several panic attacks in my car. I did not sleep last night.

It is four a.m. and I am getting ready to drive to Camp Lejeune because my annual TDRL physical is today. The first exam is at the Naval Hospital, the same Naval Hospital that caused the injuries that cost me my military career and to almost took my life (well, technically, they did take my life, but that's another story). I know that there is nothing there that can harm me and my emotional response is primal, puerile even, but certainly not logical, which helps some. Nonetheless, I loathe the building, cannot forget what happened within its walls and I become a wretched mess every time I am forced to breathe the sterile fumes of its interior.

I search for humor in my situation - me, the logician, of the squared-off edges and analytic mind - who cannot seem re-set the position of the building to its rightful place of inanimate object. There's only one person who can help me.....

Then I remembered that he's pretty much a screwed-up nut, too....

 So, there you have it...I guess it'll have to be me saving myself, which probably stands to reason. See you on the other side.