D
Darsh
Guest
(After reading this post, I felt the need to say that I don't feel as bad as it might appear. My
spirits are OK. I would be sick if they were anymore than that, but I am doing well considering. I
tried to make it "happier", but everything I wrote turned semi-sour. I suppose it is the way I
really feel, but I don't really feel that way.... if that can possibly make sense. hehe - darsh)
_________________________________
Whoever it is that wants me, wants me a peice at a time, nice and slow.
The operation was not a success. The Doc said he was not encouraged. He took out bad tissue, and
kept taking out bad tissue until he could literally go no further.
I am cut-up, and I am beat up. I feel pain from way down deep inside. It feels like the pain is
coming from another world. I could almost ignore it somehow, but it is like the wind, or dust. It
just finds it's way in with no end.
My life as a mountainbiker is over. The doctor said 9 months, but in reality, the decision should be
made to never ride a bike again. My symptoms and surgeries might end, but the problem will always be
there, waiting to explode. A mountainbike seat in particular is a problem. The beating and bouncing.
I can't take the pounding anymore.
It would be like boxing with a broken hand, everyday for the rest of his life. It is simply not
possible. Sometimes that same hand just gets screwed up a couple of times in a few fights, but the
damage makes it impossible to fight again.
That is me in the biking world. Sure, maybe I could get this seat or that seat, ride this way or
that way, stand up while I ride all the time.... blah, blah, blah. None of this would be very smart.
The smart thing to do is to stay off bikes for good. I can tell within myself, and I have been told
so. (My doctor is the ONLY doctor that even said 9 months. The others
(3) say never again.)
So life goes on no matter how it does. I can't imagine how I feel. With the surgery pain, it is hard
to think about the ramifications of all this. I could be back in surgery in less than a month if
this follows it pattern.
It appears it is my turn, early I might add, to either enter the pit crew with resound interests and
determination to improve the sport, or dig into the depths of soggy, motel livin', a bottle of
scotch in one hand, a writing pen in the other; spewing ignorance, and tripe onto a YMCA napkin.
Life is not measured on a bicycle seat, but why can't I be allowed to measure myself on one?
(LOL, what a whine... gotta love that measurement line.. puke!)
darsh
*Sorry for being dreary, but if it was not dreary, it would not be reality.*
Sometimes reality bites you in the ass! HAHHAAAA! Biking right? BAH! Who the hell cares? I will do
something else. BWAHAHAAAA! I can do anything I frickin' want! HAHA! Biking! *snort* Who needs it!?
HEHAHEHAHAHE...
Sigh: n. A deep and prolonged audible inspiration or respiration of air, as when fatigued or
grieved. The mainifestation of grief, sorrow, and the like.
"Never man sighed truer breath." ~Shak
spirits are OK. I would be sick if they were anymore than that, but I am doing well considering. I
tried to make it "happier", but everything I wrote turned semi-sour. I suppose it is the way I
really feel, but I don't really feel that way.... if that can possibly make sense. hehe - darsh)
_________________________________
Whoever it is that wants me, wants me a peice at a time, nice and slow.
The operation was not a success. The Doc said he was not encouraged. He took out bad tissue, and
kept taking out bad tissue until he could literally go no further.
I am cut-up, and I am beat up. I feel pain from way down deep inside. It feels like the pain is
coming from another world. I could almost ignore it somehow, but it is like the wind, or dust. It
just finds it's way in with no end.
My life as a mountainbiker is over. The doctor said 9 months, but in reality, the decision should be
made to never ride a bike again. My symptoms and surgeries might end, but the problem will always be
there, waiting to explode. A mountainbike seat in particular is a problem. The beating and bouncing.
I can't take the pounding anymore.
It would be like boxing with a broken hand, everyday for the rest of his life. It is simply not
possible. Sometimes that same hand just gets screwed up a couple of times in a few fights, but the
damage makes it impossible to fight again.
That is me in the biking world. Sure, maybe I could get this seat or that seat, ride this way or
that way, stand up while I ride all the time.... blah, blah, blah. None of this would be very smart.
The smart thing to do is to stay off bikes for good. I can tell within myself, and I have been told
so. (My doctor is the ONLY doctor that even said 9 months. The others
(3) say never again.)
So life goes on no matter how it does. I can't imagine how I feel. With the surgery pain, it is hard
to think about the ramifications of all this. I could be back in surgery in less than a month if
this follows it pattern.
It appears it is my turn, early I might add, to either enter the pit crew with resound interests and
determination to improve the sport, or dig into the depths of soggy, motel livin', a bottle of
scotch in one hand, a writing pen in the other; spewing ignorance, and tripe onto a YMCA napkin.
Life is not measured on a bicycle seat, but why can't I be allowed to measure myself on one?
(LOL, what a whine... gotta love that measurement line.. puke!)
darsh
*Sorry for being dreary, but if it was not dreary, it would not be reality.*
Sometimes reality bites you in the ass! HAHHAAAA! Biking right? BAH! Who the hell cares? I will do
something else. BWAHAHAAAA! I can do anything I frickin' want! HAHA! Biking! *snort* Who needs it!?
HEHAHEHAHAHE...
Sigh: n. A deep and prolonged audible inspiration or respiration of air, as when fatigued or
grieved. The mainifestation of grief, sorrow, and the like.
"Never man sighed truer breath." ~Shak