The trouble is, I tend to credit PD with every little ache and pain that might arise. I confess to a touch of Convergent Hypochondria (Don't look it up, it's mine). This time however, I might have blamed the wrong condition. This pain is so persistent, I am beginning to believe it is related to my back bones, much like the time I had a spinal stenosis. Hence I am going to my doctor next week.
Otherwise, how are you doing? Somebody asked. Just let me say:
* The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold.
That is an example of a Netafore (new to the English language - again, it's mine). A Netafore is a figure of speech in which the author uses the net, some would say unsuccessfully, to whine about the state of his health by comparing his medical condition to an aging, raging, warrior full of lust for the kill and a passion for pain, attacking his body. A cold wind of speculation follows after.
Here endith the netafore......Get it?
Some good news is my old friend, who went under the knife a few entries back, survived the surgery with his sense of humour intact.
It seems to me that all of my childhood and historic friends have somehow aged, a lot! I thought I had not grown old until my granddaughter pointed out I was almost bald, whereupon I looked in the mirror but I couldn't see myself, blocked as I was by this old man starring at me from the other side of the mirror.
*from Lord Byron "The Destruction of Sennacherib"
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