My Day Off!

Hi guys!

I hope you remember that when I greet you as guys, I don't just mean men. That would be weird and I'm not weird! Not weird, weird anyway. I worked 4, 10 hours shifts at the end of my regular week so I could have five glorious day off! Yea-a! Here's how the first one went. It starts at 3:49 a.m. when the power goes out. So we set the alarm on our cell phones. Rusty lets us know that he wants to go outside to do his thing, which is okay, because he's a dog. I don't know what he does when we sleep all night. I guess I do! The power comes back on about 4:37. We get up at five. It's minus 19 degrees outside. We drive downtown. I let my wife out at the Emory-Crawford Not-For- Long Hospital entrance. These modern hospitals change their names more than Elizabeth Taylor. She'll have the baby and I'll pick her up about 11:30 for lunch. Kidding! I forgot to mention, she was getting a lap band! I was against it at first, but then I realized it was not anything like a lap dance. I'm still not sure what that is. They don't do those at Chili's! Fortunately! One of the waitresses there reminds me of the Ma Kettle look-alike that was my first stewardess on an airplane. Since they don't have those in taxis. I let her out of the car and using my keen senses, I back up, to go around the car parked in front of me. I back into an Acura or something. Our plastic fenders kiss, a lingering kiss, until I pulled forward a little. A short, well dressed older (than me) fellow jumps out and says what are you trying to do? So, I silently wonder if he is a doctor. I explain that my cabin cruiser has a trunk height of about five feet, while his headlights barely miss the ground, therefore, it being dark, I did not see him. The other explanation would have to be, that I knew he was there, and being "Wild at Heart" or under heavy sedation I decided to push him out of the way, because my day was just not exciting enough. Anyway, he softened up like a teddy bear. He said, I think your car is okay. Well, lucky for you..my lawyer is hungry and will eat you alive! We actually developed a nice relationship. Nice running into you, Vince! Next time, we'll do breakfast. I then proceeded the wrong way into the parking garage. If you know me, that's my basic MO. It was easily corrected. The cones weren't important anyway. I find a parking space and begin trying to find my way into the building. Being a manly man, I take the stairs. Each flight has a door with a sign describing what is on the other side. Very confusing. I finally get to one and find the secret door to the building. Maybe if I played video games, I would be better at this, Shoot all of the people - run around the corner - shoot those people, get on the elevator. They have very nice, well made signs at the elevators on each floor. I know because I read them all. I'm trying to get to the "L" floor. The elevator only goes to K. So I think maybe it isn't an "l" but an "I". Nope, that's not it. I finally see that you must cross the bridge on the "F" floor. So I do. Then I attempt to go up to the "L" floor. Only the "L" floor is down for "LOBBY". People are walking through the hallways and getting on elevators, so I play, "guess who the doctor is" My personal MD looks like a doctor. He is a kind older Christian gentleman. I like him. He's everything you want a doctor to be, except punctual. I guess he could take less patients, but then he would have to charge more money. It's a matter of whose time is worth more, mine or his. I guess, his. I finally find my place. I wait for two hours. That's 120 minutes or 4 sitcoms. Only there's no TV. Just this big plasma screen like the airports have, showing patient status, only I have no clue how to read it. Arrivals, I understand would be new babies! But departures are a little unnerving! There were a couple of Whoops! And one, "Hey y'all watch this"! I got to go back for about five minutes to see Cheryl before she went to surgery. There was a guy with some sort of a motor head doo-rag on his head putting an IV in her arm and making small talk. That could be his Harley parked out by the men's room. A lady joined the group. Could she be the doctor? Nope, maybe the social director. She said they planned to have about fifteen spectators in the room for educational purposes, perhaps to spur them into a life of medical majesty! They would get better results if they toured the doctors parking lot where all of the BMW's and Hummers and Ferarris are parked. Then do a tour of homes and view vacation slides on the big plasma screen. Instead they all piled into the OR to watch this thriller! They probably had Varsity chili dogs and rings all around, with FOJ's for everyone! Pass the onions. Hey, you got mustard on my thorax splitter! Okay 5 hours or so later I got the beep. You get beepers, just like Chili's. Then you go to the phone and they tell you how to get there. I got lost again, but otherwise I would never have seen a colonoscopy. Bytheway everyone should go on a liquid diet at least two weeks before having one of those! The Varsity chili dogs didn't help either! When I did find Cheryl she looked just great! First thing I wonder is how much weight she has lost so far? She gained about 6 pounds because they make you drink 3 liters, or do they just pour it in through one of the seven incisions (The Magnificent Seven). I suppose we could play connect the dots later. They pump your abdomen full of air. Helium would be even better. I'd like to see that! Then they stick a TV camera in there and some other things including an innertube thing that you can add water to and make it smaller! I wonder if the doctor has a private stock of OR bloopers. I need doctor friends. The doctor said he would give me a fifteen minute head start to pull the car around. Ha ha! I can do it in five! I find the car with no trouble. Of course I am carrying a black ladies purse, make that a ladies black purse which goes well with my slimline black shirt. I wonder should I put it in the bag, so it doesn't look suspicious. Then I decide it would look even more suspicious if people see me trying to hide it, so I don't. I find the car, no problem, pay and exit the parking deck, no problem! But then I find myself on the street behind the hospital, with no mapquest or GPS and only 4 minutes to go. I feel naked! Okay, I figure I'll just drive to Buckhead, turn around in the Lenox parking lot and swing right back into the Emory-Crawford Not-For-Long Hospital entrance. I slide in right on time. We get my wife back in the car. the rest of the evening is pop sickles, jello and Lojack Elixir. That stuff puts you out.

In case you're really concerned about Cheryl, she is fine! The doctors said she did great! The procedure went well. It's a little hard to get up and down and walk after playing mumbly-peg on your stomach. I will be home with her the next 4 days and am grateful for the opportunity. There are plenty of other things that could be written, but I enjoy sleeping with both eyes closed, so I let it be! The hospital gets top marks, even though they are a little hard to navigate. I would not hesitate to go there again, as a visitor. When the doctor did come out, he looked like a guy that would work in a home theater store or something. And if you have no idea what mumbly peg is, it probably isn't what you think. In the mid evil days, when I was in Junior High, we played this game where you faced your opponent, about two feet apart. You then pulled out your pocket knives and took turns throwing them near your opponents feet. I think you had to move your foot to where the knife landed or something. I'm not sure what the point of the game was, but I think part of it was to show how brave (translate stupid) you were and to not get your foot pinned to the ground. Also you were to show how expert you were with the knife. Some adult usually objected before medical attention was required. A knife was no more unusual to have in your pocket than a comb, which proved more injurous than any pointed instrument! We played some game where you balanced a comb on the back of your hand and the opponent tried to grab it and scratch your hand with it before you could pull it away. After 4 or 5 scratches, it got pretty ugly. How's that for a oxymoron? I practiced the art of knife throwing at home with a 7" bowie knife. I bought this knife because my locker-mate who had the same birthday as mine, September 15 (write that down y'all), would buy anything. I brought it to school once to show it to him. This kind of knife, you don't take to school! He stuck it up on the homeroom teachers desk! Of course it was removed before she got back. My parents found out I had bought the knife for the purpose of selling, and made me keep it. So, I practiced throwing it at an oak tree in our front yard. Over time, I made a whelp about a foot wide and two feet tall. I never learned to throw it properly, but even if I hit you with the butt, it could knock you out! About 35 years later my dad mentioned something about that tree in our front yard that became diseased , so I had to clear it up for him. One of the most difficult words to spell phonetically in the English language is "diseased". It is almost a conundrum, which is also hard to spell. I'll bet you could spell it 10 different ways and it would still be pronounced dee-zeeze.


Done now?

Hope you have a nice night. I plan not to get up before 6:30 am this time!

Love you all!