The Death and Life of a Human Electrode

The Death and Life of the Human Electrode

Human electrodes. Never really thought of ‘em until now. I always figured, well, human electrodes, or the lack thereof, were just there. I lied. I sort of live with a lousy set of human electrodes coursing from head to toe. After taking a good hard look at my latest MRI  my doc said take two pills and call me in the morning. Unfortunately, she wasn’t there in the morning, the morning after that either. Forty-three years, several EEGs, three or four MRIs, and countless blood tests later I said, “The hell with it” and started to listen to country music (as opposed to Rock). I think I was first diagnosed when I was nine, am like a human pin cushion and have been the first in and last out at a skilliion different hospitals and clinics. By now, I feel like my own human electrode. Neuropsychology, neurosurgery, hot tea, and positive thinking just doesn’t do the trick. By the same token, negative thinking wouldn’t help anybody either. My aunt down in Mexico suggested that I go cold turkey and replace the meds with healing teas. Well, you know what they say about “perfect worlds” and neuroscience. I guess it’d be like tugging on Superman’s cape, a practice that legendary Jim Croce strictly advised against. Didn’t he, Croce, also say, “You don’t pee in the wind”? I guess Croce knew a thing or two about blood toxicity levels needed to sustain the ph balance of human electrodes and the rest of the body, but I’m just guessing. (But, Croce is 6 feet under and I am safe and sound, babbling on about human electrodes from behind my computer).


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