"Jimmy-rigged"
"jimmy-rigged" What does that mean? Did Jimmy do it? No, I'll tell you who did it. It was the mechanic that fixed our truck for free. He added extra switches under the cigarette lighter to turn on the wipers. And I don't think his name was Jimmy, based on his nationality. He was Hispanic. (like Amanda)
I'll tell you what else is "jimmy-rigged" - ME. I'm jimmy-rigged. The way my body works, has tell tale signs of jimmy rigging. I'm not sure why, but if I do this, and tweak that, and stand up straight, and roll my foot on a golf ball, and sit this way, and avoid eating that, and drink plenty of water, then my body works great. But if I don't, everything falls apart. The thing is, doctors don't know why it works that way. They never have.
When I was 9 I had a short leg, why? who knows. I also got lots of headaches and so I wore a baseball tied on the front of my pajamas so I wouldn't sleep on my stomach at night. Now that sounds like jimmy-rigging to me. And now in my twenties, this jimmy-rigged body continues to have new quirks which I must find new remedies for. Once again doctors don't really know the answers. They offer suggestions, and then they leave me to being my own remedies.
They remind my of my doctor when I was a kid. I would go to see him and he would ask me, "Well, what wrong with you?"
I always thought, "I don't know, that's why I came to see you, isn't that your job."
Evidently, in my case, it is not. The doctor's job is to run the tests, give me the results and then leave me to the tweaking and self-remedying (I don't think that's a word - but it works).
So, I am officially changing the work "jimmy-rigged" to "audrey-rigged" because really Jimmy never had anything to do with it. So far it's working out alright, and if it stops working out, you know what I'll do? I'll Audrey-rig it.
I'll tell you what else is "jimmy-rigged" - ME. I'm jimmy-rigged. The way my body works, has tell tale signs of jimmy rigging. I'm not sure why, but if I do this, and tweak that, and stand up straight, and roll my foot on a golf ball, and sit this way, and avoid eating that, and drink plenty of water, then my body works great. But if I don't, everything falls apart. The thing is, doctors don't know why it works that way. They never have.
When I was 9 I had a short leg, why? who knows. I also got lots of headaches and so I wore a baseball tied on the front of my pajamas so I wouldn't sleep on my stomach at night. Now that sounds like jimmy-rigging to me. And now in my twenties, this jimmy-rigged body continues to have new quirks which I must find new remedies for. Once again doctors don't really know the answers. They offer suggestions, and then they leave me to being my own remedies.
They remind my of my doctor when I was a kid. I would go to see him and he would ask me, "Well, what wrong with you?"
I always thought, "I don't know, that's why I came to see you, isn't that your job."
Evidently, in my case, it is not. The doctor's job is to run the tests, give me the results and then leave me to the tweaking and self-remedying (I don't think that's a word - but it works).
So, I am officially changing the work "jimmy-rigged" to "audrey-rigged" because really Jimmy never had anything to do with it. So far it's working out alright, and if it stops working out, you know what I'll do? I'll Audrey-rig it.
Comments
Post a Comment