Two days later and I still feel like I've been beaten with rubber hoses because of those four injections from the masochists of Madison Street. Quite seriously, I go in and out of fugues where I feel as if I'm brain-damaged. I'm slowly getting to the point where I can type for extended periods of time. A few more visits to that place and I'll be like my friend here from 1993. You stop hearing from me, again, quite seriously, assume I've found legitimate health care.