Got A Notice For Jury Duty

It happens every few years.

Unfortunately because of my fucked up back, me no can do.

For those who don’t know, I fucked my back up when I was 20 and lived in misery for 5 years until they finally figured out what was wrong. I then went under the knife for 5 hours while they opened me up, took out one and a half discs, cut a chunk of my pelvis out and broke it into little pieces and then stacked those pieces up around the lowest vertebra before your spine hits your pelvis. It had to fuse together like a broken bone heals.

L-5 and L-6 they worked on. It took two years to heal up and has been fucked up ever since. I got a nice wicked zipper down my lower back out of the deal and had zero reportable income for one entire year back in 86 because I couldn’t work above the table.

So yeah, I have a  very fucked up back. I have been a mechanic anyway for forty years now.

There are some things I have to be damn careful about but I manage.


One thing I can’t do though is to sit for long periods of time. Long road trips kill me, I have to stop and get out every so often and walk around to get the feeling back in my leg.

Sometimes it feels like someone is pouring ice water down the side of my right leg onto my foot and there is a dead spot on my tiny little right butt cheek from them cutting some nerve when they opened me up.

I still have a pinched nerve back there and my fucking leg goes to sleep if I sit too long.

So I sent off to be excused again. I haven’t had to serve on one yet because of this issue.

Now I have to wait for their reply.

I can get a doctor to verify this shit if I have to.

9 thoughts on “Got A Notice For Jury Duty

  1. Strange.
    My flight instructor had exactly the same problem.
    A bad back and an invitation for jury duty.
    In his case it was some intervertebral discs causing the pain.
    Hey, that could be made up into some nice conspiracy theory:
    These bastards are doing it on purpose! 😬


    • Notwende, I was an aeronautical maintenance control worker for most of my time in the Navy.

      You were an aviator yourself? What did you fly, and are you still flying? I hope so!

      One of my supervisors once described helicopters as machines designed to produce metal fatigue, and said that helicopters do not actually fly – they beat the air into submission.
      Constant exposure to salt spray made maintenance interesting.

      We spoke earlier about the Ho-229 – see also the Dehavilland Swallow (I’d post a link, but I have no idea how to do that). It looks like what would happen if the Ho-229 got married to the Me-163 Komet, moved to England and had a child there.



      • Hey Spud,

        I made the Pilot license in 2005, but it wasn’t a PPL but something much more basic – just enough to fly this baby:

        I had lots of fun flying this somewhat anachronistic plane.
        The aeronautical club I was honored and proud to be a member of had very strict rules when one paused flying for a while.
        You had to do a flight with an instructor to certify you still knew enough to fly this babe alone. Made a lot of sense if you‘d ask me.
        I always passed this certification but these days I had a lot of work to do and simply not enough time at hand to go flying. Then came the day I was up in the air all by myself and suddenly I realized I was afraid of the landing maneuver (which is the hardest part when piloting). I was scared since I felt very insecure due to a lack of practice.
        I did land safely without any incident but that was it. Being scared leads to nervousness and that will lead to mistakes eventually. Mistakes while landing will very likely end tragical.
        So I quit flying and still believe it was the right thing to do.

        We knew a funny saying about the Cessna airplane: my comrades teased me with it since they knew how much I longed to fly it once by myself:
        „Dude, a Cessna is nothing but a flying air drag!“

        The Dehavilland Swallow sure is a sight to behold!




  2. Back in June of ’88, I damaged the L4/L5, L5/S1 discs in my back during a stores onload working party on the USS New Orleans, preparatory to a 6-month deployment to the Western Pacific.

    That shit hurt.

    The Navy doctors failed to diagnose it correctly. I made three more deployments, including Desert Storm, all while dealing with two herniated discs. All in all, I lived with that shit for twelve years.

    Finally, in 2000, the long-suffering discs ruptured while I was at work in a factory in La Jolla. That shit hurt even worse.

    My spinal cord couldn’t have been more compressed. Just for added excitement, every so often it got pinched between the vertebrae. That really, really hurt.

    Two operations later, I ended up with a load of hardware in my lower back. While I was recuperating, I had a muscle spasm in my lower back – my spinal cord was basically caught in a vise.

    45 minutes of that before the EMTs showed up, figured out what was going on, and gave me 8 milligrams of morphine. The pain stopped, and I was my usual cheerful self again.

    That made me deathly afraid of morphine. Anything powerful enough to take that kind of pain away – like magic! –
    is scary.

    No wonder my brother got hooked on heroin (it destroyed him).


  3. How did you manage to pack yourself into and out of a midget? Did you patch up and dispose of that under engineered British marvel?


  4. I broke my back and my pelvis back in Feb. of 1980. I broke two horizontal processes off, those little bones that stick out and look like they wanted to be ribs, but never grew up. They didn’t do any surgery for things like that back then, just let them heal where they were. I don’t have any trouble with my pelvis, but my back has arthritis real bad, to where every spring and fall, when it gets damp, I can hardly stand it.
    I got t-boned driving a 4 door Ford, a huge monster of a car. It picked the car up and flung it backwards into a ditch. The car hit the center post between the two doors, then came in and hit the steering column, and put that up on the dash board. I ended up almost on the passenger side, save for my ex wife, who was holding my 9 month old daughter. They both escaped without a scratch, save for my daughter, who had a bruise the size of my finger tip on her forehead, where I tried to hold her back from moving.
    I played football in high school, and had been hit hard, and had 5 concussions, but no broken bones. I thought I had bones too strong to break. I was wrong, a car will break your bones no matter how strong you think they are. They had me get myself out of the passenger door, so they didn’t hurt me worse. I pushed myself out of the door, and fell flat on my face into mud and snow. Thanks guys. I don’t know what kind of pain medication they gave me at the hospital, but first they x-rayed me from head to toe, because that is where I hurt. The next day, someone told me that I gave them a hard time going up to my room. I felt awful, because I was never like that, and am not like that today.
    From the age of 18 and for the next 35 years plus, I spent working in a steel producing factory, basically a foundry, where we made specialty alloys for the remelt industry. There were days that I could hardly stand up straight, especially if I spent much time driving a fork lift. Stepping down from one of them, it took me at least a minute or two before I could straighten up fully. I am now 58, in a couple of weeks, and can’t work anymore. Between my back and migraine headaches, I ended up on disability. Not how I figured on retiring, but it is what it is.


    • Learning that we’re not Superman is a painful process. Kudos on pushing through it!
      I know exactly where you’re coming from.


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