Thoughts and Thinks

Good evening Mr and Mrs America, and all the ships at sea:

Last week’s PET scan reveals, in medical jargon, “nothing that we were not already aware of,” which is better than it sounds. Now, my additional new radiologist says to expect negotiations with Blue Cross to take about a month before the ablation is approved. Apparently, the procedure is so necessary and effective that insurers’ instinct is to say nay. I shall advise as these talks take shape.

As to my health in general, please have patience while I share one of my favorite jokes, which I vividly remember Buddy Hackett telling Johnny Carson on the Tonight Show back in the day, or, as it were, the night.

Sol goes into Murray’s tailor shop to buy a new suit. He tries one on and stands in front of the mirror. “Isn’t that a beautiful suit?” asks Murray.

Sol says, “Yes, but the right leg is a little long.” Murray demonstrates that Sol can take care of the problem with a hitch and twist of his hips. “Now, isn’t that a beautiful suit?” asks Murray.

　

Sol says, “yes, but now the left sleeve is too long.” Murray demonstrates that Sol can take care of the problem by holding up the sleeve with his jaw pressed against his left shoulder. “Now, isn’t that a beautiful suit?” asks Murray.

With a few more adjustments of posture and position, Sol scootches out the door and down the sidewalk, proud of his new suit, but looking like a being cobbled together with parts from Quasimodo, an Alaska king crab and the late Herve Villechaize. Two ladies pass.

Naomi asks, “Did you see that poor, poor man?”

“Yes,” says Martha, “but isn’t he a spiffy dresser?”

Which is a way of observing that I am starting to feel like Sol must have looked. Within the last couple of months or so, I cracked a few ribs in a fall outside our kitchen; I tripped on bleacher steps at a ball game and managed avoid falling, wrenched my right shoulder – it normally doesn’t hurt unless I make certain unusual gestures, such as reaching to pull my wallet out of my back pocket; and, yesterday I lunged to crush a wasp against a window and managed to kick a table and break a toe. I am reluctant to walk down the street lest strangers come up and try to press money into my hands.

Meanwhile, I have come to realize that I need to cut off the TV for stretches of the day, though I must confess that my bad hearing, augmented now by bad seeing, makes for some intriguing moments…..

For instance, what is “reptile dysfunction”? Why should anyone really care if a chameleon cannot shed its tail, a snake can only crawl backwards, or a guy has a limp lizard? And what on earth do ailing, cold-blooded creatures have to do with a geek smiling at a backyard barbecue or a couple basking in tandem bathtubs out in the middle of nowhere?

What is a wonder bra? To my mind, at least, nothing about this particular article of clothing could be even 10% as wonderful as what lies beneath!

Are tax preparers like cicadas with a different life cycle: do they breed and die and the larvae crawl into the ground only to emerge and annoy us with loud, incessant chirring every year from early January through the middle of April?

I hope by turning off the TV I will avoid creeping into abnormal dislocation and dementia and be able to start concentrating on other, more weighty and salient questions, such as did I really get a phone call from the Alzheimer’s Association this morning, or was that call a few weeks ago?

Hortensia, my wife, and Aloysius, bid you peace.

Cuthbert