53 and Lovin' it
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53 and Lovin' it

Dear Friends and family,
Once again I find myself reflecting upon the events/escapades of the past few weeks. Sitting here like Buddha at the keyboard with a small satisfied smile and the knowledge of inner peace and tranquility. Bullshit. Where are the pain meds?????!!!!!
My back is killing me from wrenching it on a bike ride Christmas Eve. My right shoulder is a mess from when I separated it going over the handlebars of my bike January 18th. Let me know if you didn't get that story and I'll send it! Lastly, my body is wiped out from a Bowel Obstruction January 22nd that sent me to Watsonville Hospital for a few days.
All I have this morning to see me through is coffee and Advil. What a decade to quit drinking!
Bowel Obstruction. Such a sucky name. The pain is excruciating. Anyone that has had one knows of the horror. It needs a better name. How can you make vibrant conversation at cocktail parties?
Why, just Saturday evening I was maundering, drink in hand past the Jones' and the Smiths who were sitting on the sofa. I overheard their conversation. It was about their Bowel Obstructions! Everyone was trying to speak at once!! What an excited din.
Yeah right. Say bowel Obstruction and people stand back thinking that you are going to explode like a Poop Grenade. I say we change the name only for the sake of conversation. Something that chicks dig. How about Extreme Macro Atomic Exhibition. I bet people wouldn't jump back when you told them you had that!! They would think you were cool.
On Monday the 22nd I was at work at the Pub and I had a late lunch of a Spinach salad. By about 4:00PM my belly was throttling up the pain and I was hating life. All I could hope for was a head turning case of e-coli so I could make the local news.
As usual, by 7:00 Gail was in the kitchen cooking some exotic dinner for us. Tortillas and salt. Honey Bunches of Oats. Celery sticks with crunchy Peanut butter. Sam has OCD and looks over his food like some old Gemologist inspecting a tiny rock with one of those telescoping magnifying glasses. Reilly and I have a lot of fun at his expense. Whoever put forth the Idea that the dinner table was some sacred place where families get together to discuss the day and share their views was probably a lifer in prison and had never been there! The table is a war zone. Fast food holds families together I posit. 
Where was I? 7:00PM. Right. I'm laying on the bathroom floor trying to get the cool tile to soothe my back while the Extreme Macro Atomic Exhibition is tearing me up. It takes me back to the 1st world war. I'm a French soldier with a gut wound laying out on his back under the barbed wire in No Man's Land. Sienna trots in,braving machine gun fire to lick my face. Damn the guns!!!
Finally Gail hauls me down to Watsonville Hospital. She knows everybody in the ER there. Not only does it help to know the staff but an English speaking patient is a delight for them. They ask me a few questions then say , "what do you want first? The good news or the bad news?" I say,"good news first por favor".  They take a blowgun and shoot me with a morphine dart. Now the bad news, garden size hose up the nose then a quick turn down into the stomach. Is this some stupid ER party game??? Then the Morphine hits and I don't care anymore. I can't wait for the Hospital jello.
A couple of days later they unfortunately stop the Morphine and bring me back to reality. I'm hooked up to an Intra Venous fluid drip and a gross nose hose. I have to pee in a bottle while the nurse impatiently waits to record my output. I ask for a prostate massage to move things along faster because being 53....well peeing could take hours! No massage given.
The nurses are all Philippine. They carry knives and are mean as Dick Cheney. It's a fact that you need to get on their good sides if you even want the remote to your TV. I start by telling Penguin jokes. Everyone loves Penguin jokes. Duh, no speaky Engy. I use hand signs to tell them that I own a shoe store. We're good to go. I get the remote, jello, and the dart.
The Doctor stops by to check on me and decides to remove the nose hose. Remove is a nice word for what happened. I think that this is where they got the idea for Bull-Whips. Dr. Dominator put on his cowboy hat, stuck a foot on my chest, grabbed the hose with two hands and with a cattle drivin' yell ripped the tube right out. Craaack went the tube like a gunshot.
What the F#%&!!!!!!! It felt like my stomach and lungs came out my nose attached to some portion of the tubing/bullwhip. The Philippine nurses clapped their approval and went weak in the knees over the good Doctor.
So I'm sitting up in bed, stunned as a homeowner opening their Gas and Electric bill when the Doctor says that I'm well enough to go home. Yesssss! He hands me a single Kleenex and turns to leave saying......." you're nose is bleeding. "
Cheers,
Charlie
 

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2007 Charlie Meehan