The Tulsa police will be distributing this pamphlet of local missing persons at the county fair. All of the cases on it, except Thomas Martin and Toni Long, are on Charley. Toni hasn’t been missing long enough and Martin I just haven’t added yet.
The North Bay Nugget notes that fifteen-year-old Melanie Ethier disappeared from New Liskeard, Ontario fifteen years ago today. According to another source, at the time Melanie was walking home, three weddings were letting out and the bars were closing with customers leaving, yet nobody saw a thing. There’s no evidence that she ran away.
And in Quebec, the cops are searching the Mile-Illes River for Julie Surprenant (French language link), who disappeared in 1999 at the age of 16. A man dying of cancer reportedly confessed that he killed her and dumped her in the river. The nurse who heard his confession didn’t tell anyone about it for five years.
That wonderful, headache-relieving massage I mentioned? The relief lasted less than 48 hours. I had been hoping it would be a week or even two. Oh, well.
I saw my neurologist, Dr. Bultemeier, Tuesday morning and told her what was up. She prescribed some topical cream that some mad scientist in Fort Wayne makes to order, which she says has helped some of her headache patients. I haven’t picked it up yet. I wonder how I’m supposed to apply it over my hair. Dr. B is also going to call that psychologist in Cleveland — the one who thinks I might be too crazy to be in the I-Match program — to find out if he’s got my records or has read them yet or what. Dr. Easley has put me back on Fentanyl, a larger dose this time. So I’m well on my way to becoming a complete hophead, knocking over 7-11s to get my fixes.
I’m feeling pretty down about it all. Not really doing to shoot myself though, or any other self-harm. The title of this post is just an indication of how frustrated I am.