(greetings fun seekers. as we prepare for the next installment of the serial anthology known as "Under the Gun" it seems very apropos to review the action thus far. therefore, this special re-release of the first seven chapters as one fluid work is now presented for your reading pleasure. and sports fans, don't forget: think big, act swiftly - b2)
Under the Gun
Do you ever feel like the clock is ticking?
Not running late for work, gonna miss a podiatrist appointment ticking. I'm talking about it's all gonna be over at any second so you better kick it in one time before your heart explodes kind of ticking.
Well, I've felt that way for three years. In some ways I've been like this my whole life. It doesn't mean that I'm incredibly productive or even that I have any sort of special abilities to get things done. My only super hero power is that the blood in my veins moves faster than most, yet my blood pressure remains unnaturally low.
You see, I have a condition. An ailment of sorts. The kind that no ones' heard of, and nobody is running a foot race to cure. There's not a 501c3 non-profit seeking donations, there's no viral effort using social media to raise awareness. You won't see firefighters standing at traffic lights with their boots in hand.
What you will find is time bomb with a very short fuse. A dried up rubber band, stretched and ready to snap. You'll find me. Fooling everyone, convincing no one.
No one, that is, except for myself.
Not running late for work, gonna miss a podiatrist appointment ticking. I'm talking about it's all gonna be over at any second so you better kick it in one time before your heart explodes kind of ticking.
Well, I've felt that way for three years. In some ways I've been like this my whole life. It doesn't mean that I'm incredibly productive or even that I have any sort of special abilities to get things done. My only super hero power is that the blood in my veins moves faster than most, yet my blood pressure remains unnaturally low.
You see, I have a condition. An ailment of sorts. The kind that no ones' heard of, and nobody is running a foot race to cure. There's not a 501c3 non-profit seeking donations, there's no viral effort using social media to raise awareness. You won't see firefighters standing at traffic lights with their boots in hand.
What you will find is time bomb with a very short fuse. A dried up rubber band, stretched and ready to snap. You'll find me. Fooling everyone, convincing no one.
No one, that is, except for myself.
UTG - Part 2, Sense of Urgency
There was a show on cable a while back about people with strange compulsions. No, I wasn't on it. But I can relate to one of the strange byrd's that was profiled.
He couldn't stop working out. Sounds a little silly, right. Well, that's the nature of the show I guess.
The really weird thing was that this guy didn't appear like one would guess: all juiced up and popping out of his clothes with ripped flesh. He look liked Larry from down the block, in khakis. He actually worked out in Dockers and a Polo.
He wasn't strung out on roids (as far as I know, anyway). He didn't compete in the Mr. Universe contest. He was just a guy who was addicted to lifting weights.
Six, eight, ten times a day he would sneak to a gym (he belonged to a half dozen) and jump on a machine, pick up some free weights and sweat his way through some oldies like his life depended on it.
I can relate. Sort of.
He couldn't stop working out. Sounds a little silly, right. Well, that's the nature of the show I guess.
The really weird thing was that this guy didn't appear like one would guess: all juiced up and popping out of his clothes with ripped flesh. He look liked Larry from down the block, in khakis. He actually worked out in Dockers and a Polo.
He wasn't strung out on roids (as far as I know, anyway). He didn't compete in the Mr. Universe contest. He was just a guy who was addicted to lifting weights.
Six, eight, ten times a day he would sneak to a gym (he belonged to a half dozen) and jump on a machine, pick up some free weights and sweat his way through some oldies like his life depended on it.
I can relate. Sort of.
UTG-3, Diagnosis: Denial
"Mr. B, the doctor will see you know".
"I'll be there in a minute."
"Excuse me?"
"Just a minute...please. I've only have two more hidden pictures to find in this issue of Highlights."
The nurse practitioner did not act as if she found this humorous, but then again I didn't have a lot to laugh about today myself.
I cancelled and delayed this follow-up appointment at least four times, quite miffed by the fact that they wouldn't give me details over the phone. I know most of the blood work that was ordered was routine, but the bone aspirate was just plain weird. Yeah, the drugs were a riot, but having a piece of your femur scooped up like the 31st flavor is not my idea of a D.H. Lawrence picnic.
The self-flagellation that is putting off what you are convinced is horrible news is something of an art form. Some of the most prolific ulcers in the history of man have come about, or have been beautifully aggravated, by the internal struggles of a troubled soul. Finding new ways to worry is like a rat seeking a better mouse trap. But hey, everybodys' gotta be good at something.
The courtesy paper has torn and the cold steel is a shock to the part of my cheek not protected by the flimsy examination gown. I thought for sure that we were at the consultation / sit down in a cushy chair portion of the proceedings. Rumour has it that some Md's will dress you down in order to dress up their uniform whites. The medical equivalent to a boss elevating their desk chair.
Once I really start getting into the giant diagram of the inner ear, my blankness is sharply interrupted by the polite apologies of my health professional.
"Mr. B, how have you been lately?"
Lately? You mean like since you robbed me of bone marrow and sent me home to stew in a stress pool of my own makings?
"Wonderful! And you?" There are just some mindless social interactions that even a borderline maniac cannot avoid kowtowing to.
"Good, good. How are the workouts coming along. Still keeping them to down to 2 or 3 a day".
"Of course." Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever you want to hear doc. Let's get this over with so that I can sneak in some push ups in the parking lot before forcing my self to vomit behind your Bentley.
"Great! You know, moderation is the key. Well,.... I guess you would like to here about your blood work?"
No, I wanta shove tongue depressors in your ear until I can hear your ear drum play the solo from Crazy Train! Yes, I want to hear about the blood work. HIT ME WITH IT!!
"Oh. Are the results back already? Sure." Oh, sure. Are the result back already. Give me a break, will ya'?!
"Mr. B,....we found an anomaly in your tests. As a matter of fact, were not sure...........Mr.B.........NURSE! Mr. B, can you hear me!"
As a matter of fact, I can't. Because while you were pacing, and carefully choosing your words, I had decided to make a dive for the tongue depressors. Unfortunate for me, and the 95 lb. nurse that had to help you lift me back on the table, my feeble attempt at a auditory dissection resulted only in my own syncopatic episode.
I blacked out and ended up as a hot mess on the floor. Face down, pale side up, poking out of my gown of course.
At least I didn't have an ulcer. Not yet, anyway.
"I'll be there in a minute."
"Excuse me?"
"Just a minute...please. I've only have two more hidden pictures to find in this issue of Highlights."
The nurse practitioner did not act as if she found this humorous, but then again I didn't have a lot to laugh about today myself.
I cancelled and delayed this follow-up appointment at least four times, quite miffed by the fact that they wouldn't give me details over the phone. I know most of the blood work that was ordered was routine, but the bone aspirate was just plain weird. Yeah, the drugs were a riot, but having a piece of your femur scooped up like the 31st flavor is not my idea of a D.H. Lawrence picnic.
The self-flagellation that is putting off what you are convinced is horrible news is something of an art form. Some of the most prolific ulcers in the history of man have come about, or have been beautifully aggravated, by the internal struggles of a troubled soul. Finding new ways to worry is like a rat seeking a better mouse trap. But hey, everybodys' gotta be good at something.
The courtesy paper has torn and the cold steel is a shock to the part of my cheek not protected by the flimsy examination gown. I thought for sure that we were at the consultation / sit down in a cushy chair portion of the proceedings. Rumour has it that some Md's will dress you down in order to dress up their uniform whites. The medical equivalent to a boss elevating their desk chair.
Once I really start getting into the giant diagram of the inner ear, my blankness is sharply interrupted by the polite apologies of my health professional.
"Mr. B, how have you been lately?"
Lately? You mean like since you robbed me of bone marrow and sent me home to stew in a stress pool of my own makings?
"Wonderful! And you?" There are just some mindless social interactions that even a borderline maniac cannot avoid kowtowing to.
"Good, good. How are the workouts coming along. Still keeping them to down to 2 or 3 a day".
"Of course." Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever you want to hear doc. Let's get this over with so that I can sneak in some push ups in the parking lot before forcing my self to vomit behind your Bentley.
"Great! You know, moderation is the key. Well,.... I guess you would like to here about your blood work?"
No, I wanta shove tongue depressors in your ear until I can hear your ear drum play the solo from Crazy Train! Yes, I want to hear about the blood work. HIT ME WITH IT!!
"Oh. Are the results back already? Sure." Oh, sure. Are the result back already. Give me a break, will ya'?!
"Mr. B,....we found an anomaly in your tests. As a matter of fact, were not sure...........Mr.B.........NURSE! Mr. B, can you hear me!"
As a matter of fact, I can't. Because while you were pacing, and carefully choosing your words, I had decided to make a dive for the tongue depressors. Unfortunate for me, and the 95 lb. nurse that had to help you lift me back on the table, my feeble attempt at a auditory dissection resulted only in my own syncopatic episode.
I blacked out and ended up as a hot mess on the floor. Face down, pale side up, poking out of my gown of course.
At least I didn't have an ulcer. Not yet, anyway.
UTG IV: Hard Pressed
Luck has never been my lady when it comes to doctor visits. The most vivid memory I have of early childhood is a visit to an ENT.
It had no allergies at the time. I was not plagued with ear infections, or even the sniffles. I simply needed a nut removed from deep inside my nasal cavity.
1/4 - 20 fine thread I think it was. My friend Chuck and I were taking turns shoving pieces of hardware from our metal cots up our nose to see who could go the farthest.
I won.
Pre-school was such a blast (when I wasn't having medical extractions done, anyway). Chuck and I had a routine down. As soon as our Mom's dropped us off we would take our wooden name blocks straight to the apple room. That is where the turn table was.
Ah yes, forty-five heaven. 'Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head' over and over again. I don't care what you say, B.J. Thomas was THA' MAN!
Then, after nap/nose shoving we would head straight for the sandbox. The fact that I did not end up a structural engineer is absolutely amazing when you account for the tunnels that we dug for our metal Tonka trucks. But that's not why I went to the sandbox. I was there for Tiffany.
You see, I never went through an 'ooh, girls are gross' - pull pig tails - throw rocks at Suzy - phase. (Remember this: everything for me is a race. Everything.) I dug chicks from the get-go.
And Tiffany was the sweetest babe on this side of the jungle gym.
There, among the monuments to sand creativity, I had my first kiss. At 4 years old.
Lucky for me, my second kiss was year's later. Apparently an early start does not necessarily equate to steady momentum. I didn't realize this back in pre-school. I learned this lesson much later in life.
As a matter of fact, it was about the time I first started noticing the symptoms.............
UTG VI: Sorry, gotta' go....My hair is on FIRE!!!
"Lymph node? What the hell is a lymph node?!! And why do you want to cut one out of my skull?"
Six weeks ago; before the bone sample was drilled out of my leg, before my rendition of Admiral Woodward on the exam room floor, and before my forehead ached like cracked Quickrete; I was being faced with 'elective' surgery. I could opt to find the cause of my ails (and / or chalk another one off the list) or choose to bury my head in the almighty sand of denial.
"Mr. B., it really is a routine biopsy..." there it is again, ROUTINE!
"When you say 'routine',...what kind of 'routine' do you mean exactly?" I had quickly, rudely, interrupted the nurse practitioner who really was doing her best to provide me what I needed in order to make an informed decision. And here I was making big quotation symbols with my raised hands and fingers every time I said 'routine'.
"Is it a dance 'routine'? Is it a comedy 'routine?!! Is it a freaking exercise 'ROUTINE'?!!"
"Perhaps you should take some time to think about your options".
Oh,...she says you have options. How wonderful. How adventurous. Yeah!! Options!!
I spent that night learning everything the Internet had to offer on Lymph Nodes:
Now, as a lump begins to push my eyebrow into full view of my red veined eyeball, I sit and wait for Doc Mengele to deliver my fate. I could hardly believe hearing myself repeatedly refuse perfectly good pain medication.
No, not this time. I wanted answers. And I wanted to be perfectly coherent, bulging brow or not, to hear the sentence laid out for me.
So I sit, biding my time. Biting my tongue. Pushing the internal battle, the voice, deeper into my midsection. Swallowing the last scraps of my chewed up pride.
Patience isn't really my thing either. That's why I've been lifting weights 4 times a day. It's the motivation behind my latest change in eating lifestyle (call it what ever you want, it's still a diet). It serves as the basis for the 8-10 self improvement books I tear through each week, reading until my book light flickers and I finally doze off for 2, maybe 3 hours. It's been like this for over three years now. And the real crazy thing is, I feel like I'm just getting started.
It's like someone finally shot the starting gun, or I just got around to hearing it. Something changed deep inside me and I'm not sure that it's necessarily a good thing or not. But what I do know it has inched it's way into every facet of my life. Relationships can't mature fast enough. Which is why I usually come across either charming or harsh, depending on the demeanor of the recipient in my latest bull in a social china shop attempt of introducing myself.
Case in point, here is a conversation I had just the other day. Seemed like run of the mill daily minutia at the time. But once I had the chance to think about it later that night as I laid in bed second guessing every decision that I had made during the previous 72 hours (I had finished my 8th and 9th book on Thursday morning and had gotten so hung up on trying to scrub the rust off an old turnbuckle I found during my daily 5 mile hike that I didn't even look at the clock 'til forty five minutes after the library had closed). The veterinarian's office had called to confirm my dog's appointment for the next day:
"Hello, this is Margaret from East Side Animal Clinic. Is this the home of Keaton and Buster?"
"Yes it is, but they can't come to the phone right now."
The long pause followed by a polite giggle made it obvious that my lame attempt at charm had at least brought a smile to her face.
"...I'm sorry, you caught me off guard a little. That was pretty funny".
And, I could have left it at that, confirmed the appointment and let this lady go about her day and continue on full-filling her post-retirement / second career aspirations in professional animal care.
But NOOOOOO! I had to take it a little farther.
"Do you have pets?"
"Well,...yes. I have a poodle."
"Where do you take them for shots?".
"I actually don't believe in vaccinations."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I mean, I'm sorry that I asked.....but since I did. Do you not believe in them for people as well?"
I relived that twisted excuse for a conversation at least 25 times before reverting back to my old stand bye lament involving an odometer reading in 1992.
And I'm not just anxious over new relationships. Like any parent I want my boys to be smarter than me. But I want it yesterday. Literally. So I insist on a daily regime of trying to force feed them information that I am not an authority on.
Then there's my siblings. I regularly put them through their own personal obstacle course of emotional landmines and guilt traps. Oh, but I have justifications for my intentions. I can justify with the best of 'em. I just want to strengthen our bond. And I want it RIGHT NOW!
I can't be bothered with details like experiences and all that live in the now, smell the roses mumbo jumbo. Don't get me wrong (so help you), I am an optimist. To some pretty sick degrees in fact. But when it comes to time....when it comes to the finality of it all..........when it comes to getting it all done....in time........
"NURSE!! Excuse me, NURSE. Yes, I've changed my mind about those pain killers. And can I get another blanket. Thank you."
"Say, do you have any pets?"
It had no allergies at the time. I was not plagued with ear infections, or even the sniffles. I simply needed a nut removed from deep inside my nasal cavity.
1/4 - 20 fine thread I think it was. My friend Chuck and I were taking turns shoving pieces of hardware from our metal cots up our nose to see who could go the farthest.
I won.
Pre-school was such a blast (when I wasn't having medical extractions done, anyway). Chuck and I had a routine down. As soon as our Mom's dropped us off we would take our wooden name blocks straight to the apple room. That is where the turn table was.
Ah yes, forty-five heaven. 'Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head' over and over again. I don't care what you say, B.J. Thomas was THA' MAN!
Then, after nap/nose shoving we would head straight for the sandbox. The fact that I did not end up a structural engineer is absolutely amazing when you account for the tunnels that we dug for our metal Tonka trucks. But that's not why I went to the sandbox. I was there for Tiffany.
You see, I never went through an 'ooh, girls are gross' - pull pig tails - throw rocks at Suzy - phase. (Remember this: everything for me is a race. Everything.) I dug chicks from the get-go.
And Tiffany was the sweetest babe on this side of the jungle gym.
There, among the monuments to sand creativity, I had my first kiss. At 4 years old.
Lucky for me, my second kiss was year's later. Apparently an early start does not necessarily equate to steady momentum. I didn't realize this back in pre-school. I learned this lesson much later in life.
As a matter of fact, it was about the time I first started noticing the symptoms.............
UTG / 5 - Shifts in Priority
Waking up from anesthesia after a procedure is a messed up experience as it is. Coming to in a medical environment when it's not planned will turn your brain upside down. I've woken up in ambulances and emergency rooms more times than I care to admit, but waking up in my GP's office after going night-night in a heap on the floor is a singular experience.
Was the air conditioner on this high before? My dainty little examination gown was drenched in sweat and was somehow giving me a wedgie. My forehead was throbbing and I was certain that I was freezing to death.
"Feeling better Mr. Byrd?"
Hell yes! Never been better. Where has this place been all my life.
"I'm a little cold, could I have a blanket please?" Can I have a blanket please. Oh, brother, why don't you give her a tip and add her to your will while you're at it. You make me sick.
The voice was back.
Not my usual don't be stupid voice. Not the hey-everybody-watch-this / great idea voice. Not even my conscience (yes, I have one). But the voice. The voice that second guesses, criticizes, undermines.
The voice.
Right now it was chastising me for not telling the nursing staff how I really felt. For being civil under duress. For being me.
The doctor will be back in to see you shortly. Yeah, sure. Shortly my a...
"Oh,..... yeah. The doctor. That's fine. Can I have a blanket, please? Can I have a blanket please....you really are pathetic when you are hurt, you know that?
The medicine that my other doctor put me one just about had the voice silenced. But two months ago, shortly after the symptoms started, I stop taking all prescriptions and even my daily vitamin. I could only eat jello and broth for two weeks while they tried to eliminate the possibility of poisoning or an allergic reaction.
It all started with the headaches. But they were unlike any headache I had ever experienced. Not the behind-the-eye-sinus variety or the pulsing-skull-I-swear-I-didn't-drink-Yeager'-last-night kind. These were different.
Sharp jets of pain would leap from inner ear to inner ear, back and forth until tears came to my eyes. Then the scars on the back of my head would start throbbing as if they were going to split open and let my synovial fluid spill all over the back of my knotted neck.
The scars. I almost forgot about the scars.
They don't call it exploratory surgery for nothing. If it's done right (or in my case very, very wrong) the procedure is only the beginning of the exploration.
They said it was routine. For them maybe.
Was the air conditioner on this high before? My dainty little examination gown was drenched in sweat and was somehow giving me a wedgie. My forehead was throbbing and I was certain that I was freezing to death.
"Feeling better Mr. Byrd?"
Hell yes! Never been better. Where has this place been all my life.
"I'm a little cold, could I have a blanket please?" Can I have a blanket please. Oh, brother, why don't you give her a tip and add her to your will while you're at it. You make me sick.
The voice was back.
Not my usual don't be stupid voice. Not the hey-everybody-watch-this / great idea voice. Not even my conscience (yes, I have one). But the voice. The voice that second guesses, criticizes, undermines.
The voice.
Right now it was chastising me for not telling the nursing staff how I really felt. For being civil under duress. For being me.
The doctor will be back in to see you shortly. Yeah, sure. Shortly my a...
"Oh,..... yeah. The doctor. That's fine. Can I have a blanket, please? Can I have a blanket please....you really are pathetic when you are hurt, you know that?
The medicine that my other doctor put me one just about had the voice silenced. But two months ago, shortly after the symptoms started, I stop taking all prescriptions and even my daily vitamin. I could only eat jello and broth for two weeks while they tried to eliminate the possibility of poisoning or an allergic reaction.
It all started with the headaches. But they were unlike any headache I had ever experienced. Not the behind-the-eye-sinus variety or the pulsing-skull-I-swear-I-didn't-drink-Yeager'-last-night kind. These were different.
Sharp jets of pain would leap from inner ear to inner ear, back and forth until tears came to my eyes. Then the scars on the back of my head would start throbbing as if they were going to split open and let my synovial fluid spill all over the back of my knotted neck.
The scars. I almost forgot about the scars.
They don't call it exploratory surgery for nothing. If it's done right (or in my case very, very wrong) the procedure is only the beginning of the exploration.
They said it was routine. For them maybe.
UTG VI: Sorry, gotta' go....My hair is on FIRE!!!
"Lymph node? What the hell is a lymph node?!! And why do you want to cut one out of my skull?"
Six weeks ago; before the bone sample was drilled out of my leg, before my rendition of Admiral Woodward on the exam room floor, and before my forehead ached like cracked Quickrete; I was being faced with 'elective' surgery. I could opt to find the cause of my ails (and / or chalk another one off the list) or choose to bury my head in the almighty sand of denial.
"Mr. B., it really is a routine biopsy..." there it is again, ROUTINE!
"When you say 'routine',...what kind of 'routine' do you mean exactly?" I had quickly, rudely, interrupted the nurse practitioner who really was doing her best to provide me what I needed in order to make an informed decision. And here I was making big quotation symbols with my raised hands and fingers every time I said 'routine'.
"Is it a dance 'routine'? Is it a comedy 'routine?!! Is it a freaking exercise 'ROUTINE'?!!"
"Perhaps you should take some time to think about your options".
Oh,...she says you have options. How wonderful. How adventurous. Yeah!! Options!!
I spent that night learning everything the Internet had to offer on Lymph Nodes:
- "Lymph nodes are football shaped organs that play an integral role in the humane immune system...." - Sick-i-Pedia
- "....the biopsy of a lymph node is utilized to analyze the immune system or to identify diseases, such as cancer." - WebQuack.Net
- "Swollen or pain full lymph nodes are generally a sign of government involvement in the local water supply....." - isweartheyreouttogetus.org
Now, as a lump begins to push my eyebrow into full view of my red veined eyeball, I sit and wait for Doc Mengele to deliver my fate. I could hardly believe hearing myself repeatedly refuse perfectly good pain medication.
No, not this time. I wanted answers. And I wanted to be perfectly coherent, bulging brow or not, to hear the sentence laid out for me.
So I sit, biding my time. Biting my tongue. Pushing the internal battle, the voice, deeper into my midsection. Swallowing the last scraps of my chewed up pride.
Patience isn't really my thing either. That's why I've been lifting weights 4 times a day. It's the motivation behind my latest change in eating lifestyle (call it what ever you want, it's still a diet). It serves as the basis for the 8-10 self improvement books I tear through each week, reading until my book light flickers and I finally doze off for 2, maybe 3 hours. It's been like this for over three years now. And the real crazy thing is, I feel like I'm just getting started.
It's like someone finally shot the starting gun, or I just got around to hearing it. Something changed deep inside me and I'm not sure that it's necessarily a good thing or not. But what I do know it has inched it's way into every facet of my life. Relationships can't mature fast enough. Which is why I usually come across either charming or harsh, depending on the demeanor of the recipient in my latest bull in a social china shop attempt of introducing myself.
Case in point, here is a conversation I had just the other day. Seemed like run of the mill daily minutia at the time. But once I had the chance to think about it later that night as I laid in bed second guessing every decision that I had made during the previous 72 hours (I had finished my 8th and 9th book on Thursday morning and had gotten so hung up on trying to scrub the rust off an old turnbuckle I found during my daily 5 mile hike that I didn't even look at the clock 'til forty five minutes after the library had closed). The veterinarian's office had called to confirm my dog's appointment for the next day:
"Hello, this is Margaret from East Side Animal Clinic. Is this the home of Keaton and Buster?"
"Yes it is, but they can't come to the phone right now."
The long pause followed by a polite giggle made it obvious that my lame attempt at charm had at least brought a smile to her face.
"...I'm sorry, you caught me off guard a little. That was pretty funny".
And, I could have left it at that, confirmed the appointment and let this lady go about her day and continue on full-filling her post-retirement / second career aspirations in professional animal care.
But NOOOOOO! I had to take it a little farther.
"Do you have pets?"
"Well,...yes. I have a poodle."
"Where do you take them for shots?".
"I actually don't believe in vaccinations."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I mean, I'm sorry that I asked.....but since I did. Do you not believe in them for people as well?"
I relived that twisted excuse for a conversation at least 25 times before reverting back to my old stand bye lament involving an odometer reading in 1992.
And I'm not just anxious over new relationships. Like any parent I want my boys to be smarter than me. But I want it yesterday. Literally. So I insist on a daily regime of trying to force feed them information that I am not an authority on.
Then there's my siblings. I regularly put them through their own personal obstacle course of emotional landmines and guilt traps. Oh, but I have justifications for my intentions. I can justify with the best of 'em. I just want to strengthen our bond. And I want it RIGHT NOW!
I can't be bothered with details like experiences and all that live in the now, smell the roses mumbo jumbo. Don't get me wrong (so help you), I am an optimist. To some pretty sick degrees in fact. But when it comes to time....when it comes to the finality of it all..........when it comes to getting it all done....in time........
"NURSE!! Excuse me, NURSE. Yes, I've changed my mind about those pain killers. And can I get another blanket. Thank you."
"Say, do you have any pets?"
Under the Gun - Part 7: Facing the Muzak
"Mr. B., I'm not sure how to tell you this......."
"So just tell me Doc."
"Well,....John,....we found something in your marrow..."
come on! I ain't got all day.
"What is it Doc."
"We're not exactly sure...."
what are you paying this guy for, anyway?
"Is it cancer Doc?"
"No! Well,....we don't think so."
oh!! he doesn't think so. well isn't that just peachy!
"What are saying Doc?"
"I'm saying that whatever it is, it's very rare. Look, I'm a little over my head here, John. I've talked to the folks over at U-Med, we'd like to run some more tests....."
"MORE TESTS?!!"
now you're talking, let 'em have it!
"..they're expecting you. It's all lined up."
you hear that, it's all lined up. whoo-hooo! it's all lined up.
"Would you shut the hell up!!"
"Look, John, you need to calm down."
"I was'nt talking to you."
"I know this has gotta be a little scary..."
you hear that! he knows!
"..there's also someone I'd like you to talk to. A friend of mine on staff at U-Med."
"A shrink? You don't know what's wrong with me, and now you want me to talk to a shrink?!"
yeah, now we're talking. let 'em have it. you don't need to talk to anybody.
"Doc?"
"Yes, John?"
"Do you have any pets?"
don't do it. I'm telling you right now. we don't need no shrink. you got me, you don't need no stupid shrink! don't you dare!
"Yeah, we have a dog. Why do you ask."
"I'll talk to your friend, Doc. But no more tests today, okay. No more tests".
"Sure John. No more tests today."
"Mr. B., I'm not sure how to tell you this......."
"So just tell me Doc."
"Well,....John,....we found something in your marrow..."
come on! I ain't got all day.
"What is it Doc."
"We're not exactly sure...."
what are you paying this guy for, anyway?
"Is it cancer Doc?"
"No! Well,....we don't think so."
oh!! he doesn't think so. well isn't that just peachy!
"What are saying Doc?"
"I'm saying that whatever it is, it's very rare. Look, I'm a little over my head here, John. I've talked to the folks over at U-Med, we'd like to run some more tests....."
"MORE TESTS?!!"
now you're talking, let 'em have it!
"..they're expecting you. It's all lined up."
you hear that, it's all lined up. whoo-hooo! it's all lined up.
"Would you shut the hell up!!"
"Look, John, you need to calm down."
"I was'nt talking to you."
"I know this has gotta be a little scary..."
you hear that! he knows!
"..there's also someone I'd like you to talk to. A friend of mine on staff at U-Med."
"A shrink? You don't know what's wrong with me, and now you want me to talk to a shrink?!"
yeah, now we're talking. let 'em have it. you don't need to talk to anybody.
"Doc?"
"Yes, John?"
"Do you have any pets?"
don't do it. I'm telling you right now. we don't need no shrink. you got me, you don't need no stupid shrink! don't you dare!
"Yeah, we have a dog. Why do you ask."
"I'll talk to your friend, Doc. But no more tests today, okay. No more tests".
"Sure John. No more tests today."
Bonus Chapter:
UTG 8: Today is tha' Day
Today will be different. Everything changes right and here and now. Today is the day.
Today is the day I'm going to put plans into action, take names, and kick a--. Today is the day my Ts will be powerfully crossed and my Is will be dotted with a smiley face. Today my microwave popcorn will not have any un-popped kernels at the bottom of the bag.
Hesitation will be tossed aside and replaced with a sense urgency. Contemplation will step aside for the arrival of methodical execution. Today I will re-invent myself and recycle the biodegradable mold. Today complete, long term, sustainability will be realized on a universal scale.
Today the osteoarthritis in my knees will be reversed as the cartilage is regenerated. Shoulder pain slips away as the rotator cuff tendon is enveloped in atrophied muscle. My conscience even feels healthier as yesterday looses its significance and tomorrow slips from reality.
Today I will be first to act, watch your back, and be ready for a counter-attack. There will be no need to retract, stretch the facts, or kneel to prevent a sack. Today will be different, today things are gonna change.
Listening will active, words will be well thought. Intentions will be clear and methods will be proven. Faith will be constant, then questioned, tested, lost, and then regained again, but at a much stronger level. Fear will be respected, but will not under any circumstances get in the way of expressing love, compassion, and truth.
Feelings will be considered, others will be recognized. Glory will be shared, blame will be kept selfishly. Selflessness will be rampant, egos will go dormant. Learning will become paramount, teaching will remain heroic.
Eye contact will be encouraged, accepted, and returned. Handshakes, hugs, and high-fives will become commonplace. Touching someone else's heart will be allowed, opening your own will be mandatory. Leaders will follow, students will step up to the plate.
Today is the day. Yesterday's gone and tomorrow never comes. It doesn't matter if you feel ready are not, it's here. But this isnt' about you, following me. This is about me preparing for what's next. Today truly is the day. Today, I fight back. Today I will come face to face with them. Today I will confront my external demons.
I'm not really sure how long they have been following me. But can I can tell you that it was almost two weeks ago that I noticed. That was the day everything started to change. That was the day that I knew that this day would come.
(you have just read a special re-release of the first seven installments of the serial anthology known as "Under the Gun" and the bonus 8th chapter. be sure to sign up and receive updates each time a new chapter comes out. feel free to forward to your friends via email, facebook, google +, twitter, or write 'em a postcard and tell them to check out http://b2publishing.blogspot.com or, if this has just dampened your appetite for more rants, go to http://fairtoomiddling.blogspot.com where it all began. and don't you go forgettin': dream big, act swiftly - b2)
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