She pushed into tbe pain clinic about 11AM, leanining heavily on her walker. Sbe had dialed up on her morpbine pump gradually, as instructed, but it hadn't really bluntd the pain of 7 failed back surgeries over the last 15 years. When sne sat down her back brace kept her from crumpling like a paper cup, but her left leg twisted unaturally, as tbough it refused any allegiance to ber pained commands.
I pushed 4 needles into ber scalp, 2 into tne middle burner, facing each other, to rescue some energy from the peanut butter grip of the morphine, slid 1 south, into tbe low back at tbe back of her head, and the last obliquely down her left hip, just off GV 20, along the quad. I signaled her to stand, and we strolled, withot walker, backbrace, or morphine, leaving her history of bone grinding pain behind, to sit with ber lonely black coat tbat sbe had draped over the cbair, as sbe strode with me toward tne new borizon of possibility. I wonder how we sball find each other next visit?
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