Chapter 1: . I hope my new stapes will vibrate and offer me the rejuvenating rush of listening to maxed out El Nino, but just in case I’m at the end of my last turn I would not want everything I know to be lost. A few years back, I read about the scientific data associated with the lost art of handwriting and its therapeutic use. With healing in mind I have grabbed a pen and put this down. Even though my fingers hurt I say why not tell this story and send it off to the full of cum medico-psycho-babble-on-pre-op counsel that recommended this. The blood is pumping behind my bandages. Heal! Oh! Precious wounds. Heal! All the clean whores in the world could not make me happy again if I do not heal.