"You take pants off," she said.
Now at my age I'm not particularly used to getting these kinds of requests from women. Had I really heard what I thought I'd heard? Surely there must be some mistake. I figured I'd better be certain before I made a complete ass of myself.
"Do what?" I asked her. (Smooth, huh? I've always been smooth like that with the ladies).
"You take pants off now."
There it was. She was so sure, so certain. So demanding. And that voice. Her indistinguishable yet exotic accent was driving me crazy. What else could I do? I took my pants off and lay back in anticipation.
She dribbled glop onto my right leg, then pressed and pushed the Doppler from my groin to my ankle, looking for evidence of clots that might find their way into my lungs and make me stop breathing again. See, I had stopped breathing a couple of days earlier--right before the Michigan, Notre Dame football game--and she and the other medical types were trying to figure out why. Why I stopped breathing, that is. Not why I did it right before the game. Nobody with half the sense of a goat's armpit would stop breathing before the Michigan, Notre Dame game if he could help it.
A couple of days later, after all the poking, prodding, sticking, blood sucking and so forth by Doppler Lady and twenty or so of her closest friends, they delivered their verdict. "You're an idiot," they said. "You've been smoking two packs a day since you were a teenager. Did you think you were invulnerable?"
Of course I thought I was invulnerable. Apparently I was wrong. So, what with the hospital peeps glaring at me, my daughters guilting me up and my girlfriend throwing away my lighter, I had no choice but to give up smoking.
It's been six weeks now since I've had a cigarette. Hold off on your congratulations, though. Congratulations are for ex-smokers. I consider myself a non-practicing smoker. It's a subtle difference, I suppose, but it's a difference. The thing is, I'd smoke if I could--like if I had a terminal illness or if the death comet was on its way to Earth. That's why I'm rooting for the apocalypse. The sooner the better. I don't think I can wait until 2012.
six weeks - that sounds like forever to me. I can barely go six hours which is one of the top 10 reasons I hate flying anywhere. Good luck with resisting the compulsion, Ghu knows it's a strong one.
ReplyDeleteI think smoking is like booze. You are never a former alcoholic, just a recovering one. So you, my fine puppy, are a recovering smoker. Best wishes for your continuing recovery. (every ciggie you don't smoke is one more left for me)
ReplyDeleteMaryMumsy
Aw, Congrats, my friend whether you want it or not. I had the addiction for 26 years and this month was 1-1/2 years since I quit. I haven't looked back and can honestly say I feel much better.
ReplyDeleteThen again, I wanted to quit and there wasn't anything hanging over my head. I wish you luck with it because it's a great thing to give up.
I mean, it's not like they're telling you to give up sex. What? They did? ;)
Dawn and Mary, please blow some smoke in my general direction. I do so miss the smell of it. Bea, you speak of this "sex." What might "sex" be?
ReplyDelete;)
Congrats, puppy! I had one the other night. It made me sick as a .... yanno ;) Enough to make me think I won't need to do that EVER again... no matter how many drinks I've had :D
ReplyDeleteKeep it up! (no... thats not a reference to your sex comment)
While I know this was a serious post, and congrats and all that on the smoking, etc.
ReplyDeleteThe opening bit of this was hysterical. Things to look forward to in my old age. :D
(btw - who won the game?)
::waits until no one is looking then carefully and quietly slips a cigarette into your hand::
ReplyDeleteAhem! Good for you! Congratulations! Keep up the good work! (Here's my lighter, you go slip out the back door and I will keep watch!)
Shame on you, Frank. MisterBastard would have handed him a beer, too, and...wait.
ReplyDeleteThis is a blog written by a dog? One of those little ratdogs with red eyes and no personality?
Gah.
*takes Frank's cigarette and lighter, shoves cigarette in MisterBastard's mouth, jumps up and down on his stomach whilst simultaneously lighting cigarette, pops top on beer and basks in the second hand smoke. :D*
ReplyDeleteIf you don't post a new blog entry soon, MisterBastard will herein refer to you as LazyBastard.
ReplyDeleteYou LazyBastard.
Hey! Way to go! I quit almost four years ago. Quitting sucked, but I'm very happy I did it.
ReplyDeleteJenna! I love that you stopped by.
ReplyDelete*jumps up and down like an idiot*
Yeah, it's three plus months now and I hate it, but the alternative sucks more, so....