Life throws down many a gauntlet. We enter this world with a spanking and angst begins. On balance, life’s wine glass is half full, but there are hard days on the planet. You know. Ours is an equal opportunity experience.
Basking in the pleasant is instinctive. The challenge lies in breaking through the tackling dummies we all encounter in the schoolyard, workplace, roadways, health, wealth and relationships. Strategies abound, but for me measured irreverence is key – measured so as not to cross the Rubicon of sarcasm and cynicism, yet enough to dull the sharpness of our pain. The proper amount of irreverence stands out!
For instance, I now empathize with my neutered cocker spaniels. (You know what I mean.) My wife, Tesa, has convinced me that it’s time. I am not giddy, but anxious to be done. She’s so ready that she calls the doctor.
Your consultation is on Wednesday.
Huh?
The nurse said that you first meet with the doctor a couple days in advance to discuss the procedure.
Why?
They didn’t say, dear.
Maybe he wants to talk me out of it.
I don’t think so, but if that makes you feel better, great.
#&@*! (CENSORED)
I arrive at the office and Doc’s receptionist is grinning more than usual. The staff glances at me in a non-human, Stepford sort of way. Even the iridescent fish in Doc’s aquarium are eyeballing me.
Musak plays an eerie theme song from some Stephen King movie. As I sit down, my chest tightens and my underarms begin to weep.
Russ, we’re ready for you to come back! (She’s a bit too chipper if you ask me.)
All I can do is put one foot in front of the other. A near-lethal fog of clinical odor overpowers me in the back corridor, and I remember – that movie theme – The Green Mile!
I trudge to the holding cell . . . I mean exam room. Doc seems to skip in.
So Tesa talked you into it, eh!
#&@*! (CENSORED)
As an attorney, I recognize the “CYA” routine: (1) step-by-step details of the procedure (and embarrassing drawings); (2) the possible complications; (3) statistics; and (4) pre-op instructions.
Do you have any questions?
Yeah, how do I get out of here? (I wonder)
The sun pierces our window blinds. It is Friday morning. But the last thing I’m thinking is TGIF! My feet hit the floor – six hours and counting – dead man walking.
In the afternoon, Nurse Cindy greets me. Perhaps her friendly face should put me at ease; Cindy goes to church with us – Doc too. Cindy escorts me to the execution chamber. I’ll take her momentary kindness because Doc certainly won’t let her assist in this sensitive and very private procedure. She gives me a shot in the arm, invites me to relax (yeah, right), and then leaves me to disrobe. Tesa is there for support.
The drug takes effect and I do actually relax, until Doc walks in – with Cindy! She’s about to know me better than any church lady ever! Tesa’s trying not to laugh. I am too vulnerable at this point to protest.
The procedure turns out not to be that bad and is finished quickly – much ado about nothing. In fact, I must have really relaxed because I join in with Doc’s jocular “O.R.” demeanor.
Hey, Cindy, you’re not going to start winking at me across the sanctuary, are you?
I think it’s funny. She turns red. Hey, if you can’t stand the heat, stay away from the stitchin’!
Irreverence times two – That I would say that to Cindy and that I would share the experience with you. Hey, makes me feel better.
© 2013 Russ Riddle. All rights reserved.