Emails from the Doc

Aan-Tici-Payayshun is Making Me Wait

But it’s worth it every day

Since joining Illumination so many years ago at the very singular and personal invitation of Dr. Y., I have eagerly anticipated my morning ritual, like those two boys in that ketchup/catsup commercial that used Carly Simon’s lyrics.

It starts like this:

I wake up.

Yeah, seems obvious, doesn’t it. Until you don’t. Then whattaya gonna do? Someone famous once said, “I woke up still not dead again today.” It was Willie Nelson, that alive and still kickin’ 86 year-old pot smokin’, country music legend. I don’t mean this in a bad way, but if he was a cockroach, he would survive an all out nuclear attack.

Well, back to my story. There I was, waking up in bed, staring at my wife’s back as she watched streaming stuff with her headphones on. Now, bein’ as I am 58 years old (which in my world feels like the new 86 {see above Willie Nelson reference}), I had to spend about 10 minutes stretching the kinks out, then another 15 minutes figuring out how to get out of bed with out falling on my face, then another 5 minutes actually getting out of bed.

Now, I could’a made every one of those steps a different heading, but then this would’a been about a 3000 word article. Your welcome. Or, I apologize to my true fans who want to read more of my ramblin’s. Whatever.

I go pee.

I know what your thinkin’. . .oh, good! How long can this take. Well, let me tell you. When I go to my urologist’s office these days, the first thing he says, after exaggeratin’ the snappin’ of those rubber gloves, is, “Drop your pants and bend over. And, no, I am not buying you dinner first.” Yep, that’s how well he knows me. And, so you can imagine, successfully peein’ in the mornin’ ain’t as easy as it used to be.

Funny side note, one time I went to an appointment, knowing he was gonna put that slippery giant sausage finger in my butt, and when I got there, he had this funny smile on his face. Something was up. Sure enough, he whips out (now, I know what your thinkin’ you dirty birds and no, he didn’t whip that out). . .where was I?

Oh, yeah, he whips out the longest damn rubber glove you ever did see! Damn thing went up to his shoulder. Then he takes out a tube of lube and slathers it all over his arm. He had this evil smile on his face, like he was sending me this mental message that said, “Payback, you bastard. You wanna say something funny this time?”

Now, I knew he wasn’t really gonna stick his arm up there, tho by this time, as many “dates”” as he and I have had, I figured he probably could have. Except today, my pucker factor was so high, I’d be lucky to let any air in, much less them damn huge fingers AND his elbow!

I’m a pretty good poker player, so I have a pretty good poker face. So, when he said the magic words, “Drop your pants and bend over. And, no, I am not buying you dinner first.”

I couldn’t help myself and said, “You know Doc, I think I prefer it like last time, when you said, ‘Look, Chuck, no hands!’”

That cracked us both up.

He started laughin’, I started laughin’, the nurse started laughin’. . .then he stuck his sausage finger up my butt.

Skipping to the Good Part

So, the anticipation part: After I get my coffee and my oatmeal, I sit at my computer and fire it up. About this time, my wife comes into my office and starts running the vacuum. . .on purpose, I’m sure. But I don’t care.

“Why, Chuck?” you ask. Well, I’ll tell ya. . .soon.

C’mon! You’re in isolation, you got nuthin’ else to do! Besides, think of the “Aan-tici-payayshun!”

Anywho, as the computer finishes bootin’ up, I open my email, and there it is: in big, bold letters. It’s addressed only to me. My glee is rising (and that don’t happen much these days)!

Hell, I don’t even open up the email. I just sit and savor it, thinkin’ good thoughts, like I do when I visit my urologist.

Here it is, folks, the “wrap-up”

It’s a personal email from the Doc himself! Yep, directed just at me. I know, some of you are thinkin’ that’s just a little thing, some of you are green with envy. But it’s these little things in life that are gettin’ me though all this isolation and these “expanding” Dad-Bod days.

For those of you who don’t get the Doc’s email, and I am sure there are probably quite a few since I am special, I’ll share the subject with you, BUT NOT THE EMAIL! That’s personal, and I don’t want to upset the Doc.

Read it and weep, folks: “Dr Mehmet Yildiz mentioned you in a story.”

That’s right! He mentioned ME in a story! Makes my day, every damn day!

Write On! and Stay Safe, my friends.

Email me if you need to talk, or if you don’t get the joke: [email protected]