The angels started bringing the hopeful symbols to him and were waiting in line to see the big man. Santa passed by the horn, the drum, and the cactus quickly enough. "Really? A cactus?" He kept walking down the line of angels holding items for him to see. "No, no, no, no...none of these are right." Just as he got close to the evergreen tree, the head elf burst in and told Santa that the sleigh distributor had just repossessed his Arctic Flyer 5, Super Sport.
"That's it! I can't take it! Enough! You there. The one with the pointy tree. You win. You brought the symbol of Christmas. Hoorah. I need a Nog!" And just as Santa was storming out of the room, the angel with the tree said, "Well, Where do you expect me to put this!?"
As writer of this blog...I apologize.
Finally knowing the reason that angels are atop Christmas trees aside, please allow me to begin today's blog. I have always heard that when something difficult is about to happen, start with a joke. Today I need to confront a fear. It is a long held fear. In the grand scheme of things it is but a pebble in the cool still pond of my life...but today I must get a shot. I am not sure if I have mentioned in previous posts whether or not I have a fear of needles, if you would all be so kind as to go back and reread all 100 or so of my posts to let me know, that would be great. Actually, we have a new "follower," Rachael (lucky number 26...not for me...but somebody probably has 26 as a lucky number), I think this would be a perfect job for her...don't you agree? Go ahead Rachael, we'll wait... And along those lines, I have noticed that someone in Slovenia is checking in on a daily basis! Rock on you Slovenian reader you! Drop me a note tell me your story...we should hang out...but I digress.
While we're waiting for Rachael, I should probably tell you what is going on today. This morning, alas, I need to have an ingrown toenail fixed. Now this is not what I have been telling people, even though it's the truth, because it just doesn't seem manly enough. According to the unknowing medical advisor for my blog, my sister Susan, anything that "penetrates the subcutaneous layer of the epidermis to affect a fundamental change in the body system or structure" should be considered surgery. (seriously, I have no idea if those words are even supposed to go together in a sentence, but we won't tell) Besides, if I tell people that I have to get surgery...I get a little sympathy. If I tell them that my widdle toesies hurwt...I get laughter! Laughter?, sympathy?, laughter?, sympathy?...tough call. Laughter makes me feel good. With sympathy, people may bring me food. And we have a winner!
Apparently it is "such a routine occurence" that it is not even done in the hospital. In fact I saw the janitor, the receptionist, and the doctor in the hallway doing rock, paper, scissors to see who was going to do it. (luckily the doctor won...even though he kept saying, "best two out of 3, best 3 out of 5, best 5 out of...") The doctor came back into the office and scheduled the appointment. "It's simple. You get a shot to numb the toe....It hurts, but then you don't feel anything." and then all I could hear was "wuuuh wuuuuuh wuuhwuuuuh" like Charlie Brown's teacher. Actually I only heard "....shot....hurts...." and then I wondered aloud if they offered the ride in a wheelchair out to the curb for people scheduling appointments as well as recovering from surgery.
So here I am a mere two and a half hours from (major) surgery and I am not panicking...I am not updating my will...and I am not sweating up a storm...which would ruin the tuxedo that I always wear when I am writing my blog. Some of my readers have told me that they picture me writing in my underwear. Not true. Only my mom and Sylvia have ever written in my underwear...Mom wrote my name and Sylvia writes "This is the front!" Other readers have said they pictured me wearing bright red jammies with pictures of Ralphie from A Christmas Story and Red Ryder BB guns, with the words, "You'll shoot your eye out" written all over the place. Boy, would that be embarrasing! Nope it's the tuxedo or nothing...wait...cancel that. (Not to worry, they'll fix all this in editing...right?)
I don't want to give the impression that I am a total wimp! Scared of a teeny tiny little needle. Nope, I can take it. Even though, when I was in with Sylvia and her doctor's appointment yesterday, I had to close my eyes when they gave her several shots. In my defense, the needle the doctor pulled out was roughly the size of the water supply tube for the greater bay area. No, I am not a weakling. In fact, let me tell you that even my teddy bear wears a leather jacket...no seriously! And I haven't ever checked, but I am almost positive that he has a tattoo...underneath all that cute and fuzzy cuddly wuddly fur! Isn't that right Mr. Snookums...yes it is! Who's a tough bear? That's right you are! Yes you are! Goochy goochy goo! So, my point is, I am a tough guy with a little thing for needles. Is that so wrong?
I have a theory that it all stems from when I was a kid and I stepped into a beehive while hiking in the forest. No, seriously, the bees attacked my brother and I and we both got stung...a lot. By the way, I also have a little thing about bees. Add to this that some genius nurse who subsequently gave me a shot said, as she was poised to jab the needle into me, "OK, Just like a bee sting." "Wait! What?!! OWW!!!" Thank you all for listening. I no longer feel the need to go to counseling. I've probably even gotten over the fact that my dad kept several beehives in front of our house even though I had a phobia about...and I begged him to...what do you say I meet you back here in a little while Dr. Readers?
Wish me luck...now I'm gonna go shave my teddy bear and prove that he has a tattoo!
Apparently it is "such a routine occurence" that it is not even done in the hospital. In fact I saw the janitor, the receptionist, and the doctor in the hallway doing rock, paper, scissors to see who was going to do it. (luckily the doctor won...even though he kept saying, "best two out of 3, best 3 out of 5, best 5 out of...") The doctor came back into the office and scheduled the appointment. "It's simple. You get a shot to numb the toe....It hurts, but then you don't feel anything." and then all I could hear was "wuuuh wuuuuuh wuuhwuuuuh" like Charlie Brown's teacher. Actually I only heard "....shot....hurts...." and then I wondered aloud if they offered the ride in a wheelchair out to the curb for people scheduling appointments as well as recovering from surgery.
So here I am a mere two and a half hours from (major) surgery and I am not panicking...I am not updating my will...and I am not sweating up a storm...which would ruin the tuxedo that I always wear when I am writing my blog. Some of my readers have told me that they picture me writing in my underwear. Not true. Only my mom and Sylvia have ever written in my underwear...Mom wrote my name and Sylvia writes "This is the front!" Other readers have said they pictured me wearing bright red jammies with pictures of Ralphie from A Christmas Story and Red Ryder BB guns, with the words, "You'll shoot your eye out" written all over the place. Boy, would that be embarrasing! Nope it's the tuxedo or nothing...wait...cancel that. (Not to worry, they'll fix all this in editing...right?)
I don't want to give the impression that I am a total wimp! Scared of a teeny tiny little needle. Nope, I can take it. Even though, when I was in with Sylvia and her doctor's appointment yesterday, I had to close my eyes when they gave her several shots. In my defense, the needle the doctor pulled out was roughly the size of the water supply tube for the greater bay area. No, I am not a weakling. In fact, let me tell you that even my teddy bear wears a leather jacket...no seriously! And I haven't ever checked, but I am almost positive that he has a tattoo...underneath all that cute and fuzzy cuddly wuddly fur! Isn't that right Mr. Snookums...yes it is! Who's a tough bear? That's right you are! Yes you are! Goochy goochy goo! So, my point is, I am a tough guy with a little thing for needles. Is that so wrong?
I have a theory that it all stems from when I was a kid and I stepped into a beehive while hiking in the forest. No, seriously, the bees attacked my brother and I and we both got stung...a lot. By the way, I also have a little thing about bees. Add to this that some genius nurse who subsequently gave me a shot said, as she was poised to jab the needle into me, "OK, Just like a bee sting." "Wait! What?!! OWW!!!" Thank you all for listening. I no longer feel the need to go to counseling. I've probably even gotten over the fact that my dad kept several beehives in front of our house even though I had a phobia about...and I begged him to...what do you say I meet you back here in a little while Dr. Readers?
Wish me luck...now I'm gonna go shave my teddy bear and prove that he has a tattoo!
Wow Jeff, what serendipity that I clicked and visited your blog today. My thoughts too-so counter-Christmas in tone and symbolism--are all around doctors, medicine, hospital rooms, those smells, the glare of the lights they use, the fear, the discomfort, the flight or fight emotions that medical procedures always conjure up! All day yesterday my mother and her husband were in a Houston TX Transplant hospital. My step dad's youngest daughter; a little older than myself was in surgery to have a kidney transplant from her daughter who was the donor. Mama mia what high stakes trembling hope they had to cling to all day. Finally the call came at 5 pm our time. Both women were out of surgery and so far, safe on the road to healing. Yesterday just helped me to put my small containable troubles in perspective!! It struck me that we are compadres in this issue!! Sometimes what is divine about what happens is not that something is picked up and embraced, but the real gift is sometimes in choosing to put something down. Leave something inanimate. Sometimes the gift is released when something is let go of. It's gift to us is its sacrifice of its animation, and it goes away from our reality, released back into divine, infinite potential. And we are free to animate something else! Something gave up its reality so that something new can now come to life!
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