It would be a bit of an understatement to say that my wife is not real pleased with me at the moment. I have been indulging in some rank demonstrations of self pity and drama as in "Maybe you'll get lucky and I'll die in the hospital" and "soon you will have this place to yourself" or "You don't love me, you won't touch me." I have been extremely critical about everything and as you know, I'm no picnic in the best of times. Mother Theresa couldn't measure up when I want to be an asshole. My god, your wearing that freaking habit, again?
The truth is that I've got what, ten days before I go under the knife? I am not scared of the procedure, since it is just another gross bodily violation in what feels like a long continuum of the same. I just dread getting off the meds and the anesthesia and dopesick and the daily shot in the stomach and the night nurses and the stinky sweaty bed smell and the ugly colored walls and the dreadful food and the drain bulb and the cut abdominal muscles and the eight to twelve week recovery and the well meaning people who want to tell me about their miracle cures and what I haven't been doing or thinking right. Shoot me in the head, don't f*cking kill me with paper cuts...
Anyway, Leslie says that she is ready to help me recover and lord knows, she has been there so many times before. I guess I feel guilty that she has to clean up after my charming self. You know, you're are a human pincushion in the hospital, a potato with arms and legs that gets woken every four hours for vitals and your daily humiliation. Compliant souls probably fare better than nasty middle aged men with sharp tongues. "Take that one down to the mattress rooms, Ratchet".
I thought that I could get one of those quick laparoscopic kidney jobs with a cute two inch incision but apparently taking out a partial is harder than a whole so I will get another Frankenstein style gash in the back.
When I did the show in Pasadena last week, I met a sweet little brunette from Copenhagen. So pretty that it was almost a parody. Anyway I said something kind of nasty and she lowered her gaze and said that with my sarcasm she almost felt like she was back in Denmark. Doing my part for international relations again.
So I will count down the days - Scripps Encinitas by the way, smuggle me Jorge's chicken soup and marijuana cookies if you can - maybe I will be in for a week, don't really know. Light a money candle for us all. And say a quick prayer for my wife - you know what she has had to deal with.
7 comments:
I know you'll survive but I'm not so sure about your wife. Has she ever considered having that ugly husband removed?
k.k.
You waste no time telling me what a pussy I am when I complain about my health issues......
KJ
If they ever find something really wrong with you, KJ, I'll run buck naked through downtown Phoenix.
Rob you are fucking baby. You love all this attention. And you know, if you die we will all feel terrible, and miss you. that's the easy way out .go in there and deal with all that hospital crap. be a man make a bunch of crappy jokes get the Fuck out of there. And have some fun. I told you that the old sauerkraut was bad for your kidneys.
Hang in there, Robert, and know that a lot of Fallbrook folks wouldn't know how to deal with everyday life here without you, so get better fast! Love from Larry and Karen
Robert, I know it is a tough thing to do, major operations. You have had more than your fair share. Still, when one considers the epitaph on W.C. Field's tombstone, " I'd rather be in Philadelphia", we can be grateful to be alive and have the family and friends that we do in this moment in life. You both are great people and I am grateful to have you both as friends in my life. Long may you run.
WHAT THE FUCK DUDE!!! Night nurses??? Sponge bath in THE DARK!!! Who cares what they look like...BITCH. Just think that it will be less work for Leslie, now she can't POSSIBLY HAVE A COW OVER THAT... NOW CAN SHE!
GARY AND M
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