It's 0850 Saturday morning, my last day in the clinic. The doctor (who of course doesn't work on Saturdays) has forgotten to leave me a prescription for the meds I'm supposed to ween myself off of over the next two weeks, my roommate is watching a German version of Jerry Springer at an ear splitting volume, and the workers have begun hammering, drilling, and pounding on the floor below. I am sooo ready to go home.

While some progress was made in correcting the shift, the physical therapy and core-strengthening exercises will continue for a very long time. I still have some nerve pain in my leg, but I think that's because as the spine returns to it's normal position, there's more pressure on the nerve from the disc which is what caused the shift in the first place.

I'll continue the blog from home, but now I can put the last three weeks behind me and get back to writing about the next 50 years. Those of you who only stuck around to be titillated by the descriptive passages of the sadistic practices inflicted upon my person will be sorely disappointed.

I'd like to thank everyone who called, emailed, sent texts, and came to visit. Your's was the most appreciated, and productive of all my therapies. I couldn't have done it without you.