Okay, enough already. Can’t someone just blast me with a bunch of steroids to make this pain go away? I can tell there’s just this last bit of muscular tissue that won’t swell up and get strong enough to hold all the nerves in place – why can’t we just get a big old needle of giant juice and pump it into my back? What’s the worst that can happen? Cancer someday? Fine, I’ll take that risk. Shoot me up.
Or maybe some kind of HGH cream. Where did Barry Bonds get all of his stuff? BALCO? Are they still in business? Let’s get them on the horn. Surely enough time has passed and they’re able to covertly sell the goods again, right? No? Okay well where then? I’m not a famous athlete. Where can a dad get some steroids?
At this point, I’m beyond caring what the long-term effects are of any bad substance I could put into my body. If you tell me it’s going to be something that will kill me eventually, but could help me sleep tonight without pain for the first time in years, I’ll take it. I don’t care what happens. If it makes me grow a tail and start breathing fire, but also makes all of the pain go away, I’ll take it tonight. Gimme, gimme, gimme. Gimme the dragon breath.
Every pharmaceutical prescribed so far has failed me, and some actually worsened the damage to my nerves from mast cell disorder. Lately I’ve been having to rely on a weird combination of Tulsi tea, CBD and melatonin to combat the pain. The Tulsi tea is a new add and is working a little bit, and the CBD gives a little relief, but overall, the progress IS SO SLOW. Enough already! Where is Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa when you need them? Show me the way fellas, because living with this pain is for the birds. I’d prefer five years without pain and God cashing in my chips early, as opposed to living another fifty like this.
What’s the worst that can happen with a little HGH? A shorter lifespan? No problem. Is there any mystery why eighty-year-olds were walking around Florida without masks for the past year? Ever since I hit forty my body has been in shambles. It feels like I got to the top of the hill, hopped in some junky car, and started gunning it down the mountain. I’m driving this thing, bouncing over rocks and fallen trees, and pieces of it are flying off in every direction. Oops, there goes the windshield. Ouch, there goes the brakes. Whoops, there goes the front axle. It’s only a matter of time before all the wheels pop off on this bad boy and it belly-flops in a creek.
So why not have a little relief? I know it would send a bad message to my kids, but is it really that bad? If it can make the last few years tolerable, would that be such a bad thing? Alright, alright, you’re right. It’s probably a bad idea. It certainly won’t win me any father of the year awards if they find out I’ve been swimming in a tub of HGH. Ooh, but that does sound really good. A tub of HGH? Yes please! Gimme, gimme, gimme.
Okay, okay, okay. So just ride this out a little longer. That’s what you’re telling me? Okay, I can do it. But GNC sells HGH now, you know that right? Ok, just saying. You’re right. I should wait. Right?