I had really been "through it" and I am pretty sure I was not safe to operate heavy machinery by the time I finished this e-mail to just about everyone I knew. You think "drunk-dialing" is bad - try "drunk e-mailing". I had to have a friend send this to me because I didn't have a copy - and three years later - THEY DID.
So back by popular demand (that means more than two people asked about it) here it is (names witheld to protect the innocent):
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Its 3:08 am . . . .
So, I go to the Podiatrist today (I thought I wouldn't have to meet a Podiatrist for at least another 50 years . . .) so he can look at my toe which has been infected for 2 months since my encounter with a stingray whilst surfing (me - not the stingray) at one of San Diego's most polluted beaches (Ocean Beach).
The Pod. takes one look and says, "Well, we should probably take your toenail off . . . . It's no big deal, a couple of shots, and it pops right off . ." (photos enclosed for the sensationalist-minded)
After the procedure, he asks, "Do you want some pain-killers for when the anesthesia wears off?" . . . . (shrug) . . . ."It's basically extra-strength Tylenol . . ."
"No thanks" I say (a manly "I-can-take-it" air about me)
"So doc," I say, "Can I surf this weekend?"
Doctor; (with a side-long glance), "If you feel up-to-it . . "
That should have tipped me off . . . .
2am . . . I am sleeping on the couch- foot propped - and am awakened by a pounding "Somebody shoot me . . ." sort of pain . . .
You know when you smack your middle toe on your right foot with a hammer? Weeeeeee - he - he- he - lllllllllllll let me tell YOU!
Imagine smacking it over and over again.
I lay there . . . in the dark . . . whimpering (manly "I-can-take-it" air replaced by girly-man "I-want-my-mommy" air)
Maybe I can call L. . . . wake her up to see if J. is on duty @ the hospital tonight . . . Call J. . . get emergency prescription for pain reliever sent to all-night pharmacy in San Diego . . wake up the wife . . . Send the wife to all-night pharmacy to get emergency pain-reliever prescription . . .
It will never work . . . .
The wife will never find it in the middle-of-the-night . . . . In the dark . . .
Ok, Plan B - Maybe Dr. Kevorkian, the purveyor of death and pestilence, wrapped the bandage too tight. A little circulation is what we need . . .
I am up - light on - unwrapping bandage - excruciating centimeter by centimeter (I went metric for you liberal friends of mine . . .) . .
Oooooohhhhhh . . . . . . that's much WORSE!
Good Lord in heaven above . . . take me now . . . take my toe now . . Just stop the pain . . .
Aspirin!
Hobble to bathroom . . . Take Safeway pain-killer pills number 7-8-9 (only supposed to have 8 in 24 hour period) . . .
Hobble to couch . . . wait for the miracle of 20th century medicine to kick in . . . .
NO GOOD!
Must . . .
Do . . . .
Something . . .
Else . . .
Hobble to bathroom . . . start making hot bath . . . hobble to kitchen . . . start pouring stiff drink . . .
Hobble back to bathroom . . . In hot bath . . . Drinking strong drink . . . Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh . . .
Euphoria . . . . Happiness . . . . manageable pain . . . .
Out of bath . . . hobble to kitchen for even stiffer drink . . . "What's good the the goose is good for the gander . . ."
I'm not sure if that makes any sense . . .
Okay. Maybe that's the Bourbon and Bourbon and Bourbon talking . . (shouldn't that be "slurring"?)
I have been rescued by the miracle of 19th century medicine . .
Good thing because I think 18th century was leeches . . . .
-m
PS.
TOTALLY plan on surfing this weekend . . .
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