On the night of my 53rd birthday, I was awakened after a fine day of sugar and spice with a bit of a pain in my gut. Really though, “a bit” is a polite misnomer. To be more accurate it was “a bit” like the murder ball from the 1979 film “Phantasm” had taken up residence in the core of my abdomen.
My stomach (whom for the remainder of this narrative shall be referred to by his proper name, “Clarence”) has a long history of malfeasance, particularly when I have been indelicate in my food choices. I was sure Clarence was protesting the think, spicy, flavorful Chili Colorado which I had delivered to him in copious amounts, followed by a Kaiser-sized portion of German Chocolate Cake. These are two of my favorite foods, made from scratch for the occasion of my birthday by my beloved wife (whom for the remainder of this narrative shall be referred to by her proper name, “Jennifer”). She’s a good one, this Jennifer.
So I was sure at 11:45 on Sunday evening when the Phantasm murder ball appeared it was sent by Clarence to demand his tribute of baking soda and Pepto Bismal (not mixed, that would be gross) to relieve the stabbing, burning grip on my abdomen. On a normal night, said tribute placates Clarence after just a few moments, and I can return to peaceful slumber. On this night, there was no such relief, and when those measures were followed by peppermint tea, Gas-X and more baking soda, each attempt only inflamed the murder ball more. This was no mere heartburn it would seem.
As you may have already surmised based on the title above, it was not Clarence, but his neighbor Joey the Gallbladder who was in fact to blame. Now, Joey has clung tenaciously to my liver since 1972, so I really had no reason to doubt him; my liver despite abuse I may have delivered onto her in the form of adult beverages over the years as been a dependable lady (for the remainder of this narrative, my liver will be referred to by her proper name, “Liver” as she is a purest and filters out unwanted folly). Joey though, apparently felt more attached to Liver than I, as when Liver made and passed him various juices and potions and bile for him to hold on to for Clarence’s use, Joey was keeping a little bit each time. And as time did pass, those things he kept he turned into a gallstone; a gallstone suspiciously similar to the murder ball from the 1979 film “Phantasm.”
So as the tributes to Clarence failed, and the murder ball was pretending to be the pinball from that Sesame Street cartoon brought to you by the number 12 (you know the one, if not it’s worth an internet search) we popped into the emergency room. Jennifer was concerned that her Chili Colorado and German Chocolate Cake may somehow be the culprits. A few tests soon showed that Joey was in fact to blame. Four small incisions and a lot of anesthesia later, Joey was off to the biohazard waste, and I was not quite so inflamed (at least in that way; have you WATCHED the news lately?).
So, goodbye Joey; I am sorry your love for Liver spelled your doom, and I hope Liver does not regret your absence. And Clarence, we’ll take it easy for a while...but Chili Colorado and German Chocolate Cake will eventually be back (I hope). Enjoy your breather, Clarence; Joey has tried to teach me a lesson, but perhaps one I am not going to learn.
The Players:
1 comment:
What caused it??? Glad you’re on the mend!
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