Well, not really.
But it sounds dramatic...and that's the point.
Long ago in a galaxy far, far away I was in college. As was my wife, but she wasn't my wife; she was just my girlfriend at the time--and not a very compassionate one.
I went to visit the campus nurse with suspicions that I had a fatal case of strep throat. I was strong and braced myself for her diagnosis. I really only wanted to know how much time I had to get my affairs in order. Because of the number of unordered affairs that college guys have, I was hoping she'd at least give me 2 or 3 hours.
It turns out that my condition wasn't life-threatening. However, she did provide me with what I felt was fodder for sympathy.
"You appear to have blisters on your throat," she told me, without any concern at all.
As if blisters routinely appear on throats. You have to understand that I was a tender, sensitive lad, not given to much work or effort. Blisters were unknown to me until junior high or high school. I used a rake for, like TWO HOURS one day and some skin on my hand bubbled up. I knew it was cancer, but I detected it early--within 10 minutes of its birth--so I knew my prognosis was good. When I was told it was only a blister and wouldn't require surgery, I was relieved and immediately committed myself to a career behind a desk.
Anyway, Cindy couldn't have cared less each of the 97 times I hoarsely said things like, "Honey, would you run to the library and get that book for me. I would, you know, but...these blisters...[cough]" and "Did I mention that I have blisters on my throat? BLISTERS? On my THROAT?"
Which brings us to last night. I don't know what I did. I think I was downing a Coke Zero and some good-sized shards of jagged crushed ice went hurtling down my throat uninvited. I felt a sting. I think I cut my throat; it kept being irritated after that by everything I ate. Then swallowing hurt.
Finally I went to the bathroom sink and proceeded to expell some blood-tinged saliva. Just a little.
I knew that my wife has little [no] sympathy for my throat ailments, so I figured it might help if I brought her some of the bright red spit in a small clear glass as evidence that I needed her compassion and to warn her that she might possibly need to clean up after dinner for me. Because. my. throat. is. bleeding. [cough]
She was not amused.
But I thank YOU in advance for your outpouring of love and concern for me. Your thoughts and prayers will bouy me through this difficult time. [cough]
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Well, not really.
Posted by Scott at 6:55 PM