THE FOULED UP MIX UP

THE FOULED UP MIX UP Boy! What that an understatement. What baffled my care-giver was how the rationale was applied, when they received instructions, saying that I was ordered into alcoholic rehabilitation (with dietary restrictions). Although my most direct care worker could not understand the reason, for the admission, they did have me agree to visit the detox clinic. When the two of us visited the facility, a week later, and my worker in formed clinic staff that they had transported the client, with the worker, I noticed how clinic staff seemed to be searching, for some-thing, or some-one, whom staff just could not seem to find. It was not until I was bid, to join my worker, inside the intake office, and I was placed on a scale, that the case, for admission, was called into question. It would seem that, according to the referral forms, atleast, I was, currently, weighing in, as a 490 pound look-a-like for Star Wars character, Jabba the Hutt. The report stated that my body was so heavy, with obesity, that I could, barely, stand, even with aid/assistance. When the actual me was weighed in, the nurse seemed to triple check the results, before entering the number 205 next to weight, in pounds. When the nurse checked my arms, for flab, they had to note that my arms were solid. When a doctor was called in, to review the results, I noticed how the doctor examined my eyes, maybe three times, before reviewing the report. When my worker, and I joined a doctor, in a private office, the doctor asked me if I wore contact lenses. When I showed them my reading glasses, the doctor seemed to scratch their head. It was, however, only when the intake doctor reviewed my forms, that the doctor showed my worker, and myself, a photo, of myself, which showed me as incredibly obese. Shortly after I was showed the photo, I said "Photoshop", even as the doctor would ask "How?" Although I never understood the process, I knew that, using computer tech, ANY-one could be made to appear, in any form, which the computer user wanted the form to resemble. In this case, it seems someone had taken a picture, of myself, no doubt from on-line, found an obese mans body, and "grafted" my face, onto their body. When the doctor would ask "Sir, WHY would anyone DO that, to you?" All I could say was "Isn't it possible?" When my worker and I were offered drinks, by a staffer, the staffer, and the doctor, were surprised when I did not order a beer. Especially not after my referral papers indicated that I drank beer, at every opportunity. I came to understand the reason why my blood was drawn, upon arrival, when a nurse entered the office, carrying a folder, which the nurse showed to the intake doctor. When the doctor ask "No mistake?" The nurse said "Checked it, four times". After the nurse left the office, the doctor would say "I just dont understand. Your referral form states that you drink alcohol, at every opportunity, yet your blood work shows not even a trace, of alcohol." In the months, following my clinic visit, both myself, and my worker, were baffled when I began receiving both alcohol, and tobacco, vouchers. When my worker asked my plans, for the vouchers, noting that trying to SELL a voucher is a criminal offense, I suggested that I would use the old "Bait and Switch". For some reason, my worker decided to double-check so, without my knowledge, they contacted my building manager, and asked for any information, on what I did, with the vouchers. The building manager would tell my woorker "He went to other tenants, and asked them what they drank, and smoked. He, then, took the vouchers, to local stores, where he bought what the people asked for. He, then, traded the people the products, for the cash price". When my worker asked "How much, of the products did he keep, for himself?" The manager would say "None, as far as I know of". When I, next, saw my worker, I told them "The plan worked. I did a great trade, and now I have MORE food in the house". Still, although there is little doubt, that my records, including weight, had been tampered with, the process, of verifying the facts, would take MONTHS. Months of meetings. Months of office visists. Months of filling out forms. Months of tests. By the time the "powers that be", decided that I was telling the truth, and that it was the RECORDS, which were wrong, I was weighing in at the in-glorious weight of 210 pounds. At this weight, though, I had to be more careful, with my workers car, since, as my muscle mass increased, I had more "power", yet I had to be careful NOT to cause harm, even by accident. By the time I was weighing in, at 210, I seemed to need to remind my current medical doctor of my family history, and of what a previous doctor had told me, years before. Although my current doctor was less than joyous, at having to agree with my former doctor, my current doctor DID acknowledge the fact that Heredity could, easily, play a part, in a persons health. In short, any diseases, which my parents had, during their lifetimes, myself, and my siblings, could, more easily, fall victim to. For me, though, the most hilarious part, of being in my fifties, was the humor of observing my far less healthy comrades. While, for years, during my own youth, and while following exercise programs, even then, I remembered how a snide relative had claimed that body-building would make me a "slave, to my muscles". Now, I thought it hilarious how, the people, who had ridiculed me, for my healthy lifestyle, were either on oxygen tanks, wheelchair bound, or both. Lord, were these people BIG, too. And NOT in a good way, either. While these same people had ridiculed me, for walking, riding bicycles, etc., in my younger years, I found it laughable that, NOW, these same people needed assistance, just to move about, in wheelchairs. Ofcourse, from time to time, I had been asked if I wanted to "live forever", I had to laugh at this. I just wanted to be healthy enough to enjoy life, on MY terms. I did reach one of my lifetime goals, when the federal government ORDERED a prior landlord to admit to admionistrative mistakes, and "make peace" with me. To my surprise, the feds even accepted MY "terms for return". I was even informed that the federal government had declared my "terms for return" were most reasonable, indeed. Ofcourse, with a weird name, like mine, it would require several attempts, to input my new records, into the landlords new database. Man, what a messed up mix up that time had been. So much time WASTED, on just re-verifying information. All because someone had crossed my information over that, of another man. Still, I found it hilarious, when medical personnel had to admit that I was NOT who/what they thought I was. What a fouled up mix up this had turned out to be.