What’s that I hear? “Happy birthday to you, you live in a zoo, you look like a monkey, and smell like one too.” <Sigh>, kids.
It was finally my turn, the nurse called my name (butchering it like everyone else does), and I go back into the maze of little rooms to get weighed, to have my blood pressure checked, and to be asked a few mental health questions. It’s the day before my birthday, and time for my yearly physical at the VA. I’ve had the same doctor for years, and I usually enjoy meeting with him for a brief chit-chat about things, going over tests, and listening to his latest bad joke.
During our discussion he asks me about my knee, I had surgery on it at the Portland VA hospital a couple years back, and he was interested in how it’s doing, and my experience at the hospital.
“Did they treat you well at the hospital?” he asks, as he thumbs through some papers.
“The doctors, and nurses were fantastic.” I replied. “But, are there supposed to be beans in gruel?”
“I think they hired the head chef from the Oregon State Penitentiary, the food was awful.” I added.
He smiled and took a note, then said “You’re 51 now.”
“52 tomorrow,” I interrupted with a smile.
“After 50 they recommend that you get your prostate checked for cancer every year.” He continues. “They want to check it every year?” I think to myself. “Oh joy, oh joy” Making a mental frown.
“I can check it out right now if you like” he says.
“Ah come on,” I think to myself, I really don’t feel like having an anal probe the day before my birthday, If I had no responsibilities I could drown myself in margaritas, smoke cigars, and skip exams like this. But I have a family to take care of, so I need to take every opportunity to stay alive as long as I can.
So I man up and say “OK, we may as well do it.” The doctor tells me to bend over while he snaps on the rubber glove.
“I had a patient ask me to apologize for doing this examination once” he says…
I head home with a clean bill of health, and with a little less dignity. When I arrive I have a big chore ahead of me, the day before my old GE washing machine decided to make a big “BANG!” noise, and break down.
“Curse you GE bastards!” I say as I shake my fist to the sky. I’ve had to fix this piece of crap way too many times; I’m going to throw you over the ledge at the dump! “BWAHAHAHAHA” I think to myself rubbing my palms together like the Joker getting ready to spring a nefarious trap on Batman. I find it hard to believe that GE manufactures jet engines, when they can’t even make a decent washing machine. If you’re reading this in an airplane, just ignore the big “BANGS!” I’m sure it will be ok. (rolls eyes and whistles)
With the GE *spit* washer declared dead, my family and I travel up to Portland to get a washing machine that was sitting in what used to be my father’s house. We make the 200 mile round trip with portable DVD player going in the back seat to keep boys entertained, and somewhat pacified. I loaded up my dad’s Kenmore (no spitting required) in my trailer made from an old Toyota pickup truck, and head home.
After unloading the heavy ass replacement washing machine, I use my hand dolly to push the beast into place. I have to get a new hose at Sears, but it’s no big deal. After a good scrubbing the replacement washing machine is up and running. “Score one for the good guys” I think to myself, and wishing a prostate exam on all of the upper management at *spit* GE.
I’ve been doing a lot of work this summer, and when my wife asked me what I wanted to do on my birthday, I immediately told her I wanted to sit in front of the TV, watch guy shows with my boys, and all around do nothing; and that’s what I did. But first I had to hook up some SaaWeeeet guy gifts, so I could sit around, and do nothing all day. “Thanks honey!”
My birthday is now over, and it’s back to work. I do more work now than I ever did working for the man. Today I have a guy coming over to look at some chairs I posted on Craigslist, and then it’s blueberry picking in the afternoon. Tomorrow I’m working on replacing a door, and other home repair wonders.
It’s been a great week, and my favorite part of all was getting to eat German chocolate cake for breakfast!
“Shhhhhhhh,” don’t tell doctor snappy gloves.
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