Demon Demerol Does The Talking
Morphine-demoral cocktails are what I miss most after coming home from the hospital. The hottest nurses did daily X-Rays instead of sponge baths. Whoop de poopy doo. Nothing there to miss.
This weren't my first time at the health care rodeo. Before checking into the hospital I knew at times I'd feel as if under attack on many fronts: hospital cuisine, bad TV, drill sargeant nurses and other agents of foul spirit. Attitude decay from hospital jello alone seemed certain and rational.
These musings led to thinking that Preparation, somber and thorough and capitalized for emphasis, was in order. Lay up an arsenal for counter attack, lay down some lines of defense. This being America I needed some Emersonian self-reliance alongside the pain meds. What to do, how to hold the line, to keep at bay those backslider moods of morbidity?
Answer: Call upon Team America.
Team America is - one brave Rubber Chicken and his two finger puppet sidekicks. Occasionally joined by a Tyranosaurs Rex dino-nose, but mostly Rubber Chicken man. Tommy the Can-Do Toucan and Garrett the Green Frog Friend Extraordinaire - they are the talkative finger puppets.
These guys have seen action, rough times, and know how to hang on. "While the Rubber Chicken's on board, this ship don't go down". This was the motto oft mumbled to nursing staff accustomed to bedside Teddy Bears.
But not a bedside Rubber Chicken.
Some nurses got what I was saying about my Rubber Chicken.
The more serious ones didn't.
Not at all amused by finger puppet small talk?
No sensa humor in the night shift, eh?
Well nurse guess I can't help you, to help me, to help you help me.
Late at night, in the wee hours it was just me and Rubber Chicken on our own, keeping afloat the attitude boat. But the day shift was different - much more amenable to mirth.
Nurse 1: How about looking in on Mr Sullivan?On my buddy Kenneth's cellphone there allegedly exists a video of me. Me, after getting hopped up on Demerol. Sitting up in my ICU bed, spanking my Rubber Chicken's behind saying "Slap that chicken, slap that chicken....".
Nurse 2: OK, time for the lunch time matinee.
Nurse 1: Double feature if you go in 5 minutes after pain meds.
Nurse 2: Yeah, then its dinner and a show.
Nurse 1: Get vitals. And don't forget to sterilize his Rubber Chicken.
To Rubber Chickens across the continent I say:
I meant no harm and it wuzn't me.
Not me doing the spanking.
And on my sister's iPhone maybe (probability > 99.99%) there is a video. With a dancing Rubber Chicken exhorting us all to eat more beef.
I neither confirm nor deny the existence of such videos.
Will the alleged videos go beyond restricted "Facebook Friends Only" to You-Tube (as threatened)? If so I say - all was said and done under a hazy cloud. Jacked on influences beyond my control. That's my story, and I am sticking by it.
As fantastic as Trainer Buddy and Cursedly Candid Sister have been during all this, I forgive in advance an expanded reputation for reckless conversation (beyond my current raucous rep) they will cause me.
Bottom line: wasn't me on them videos.
Not saying they were faked, but that flaked guy?
Definitely not me.
Demon Demerol and Mellow Mindbending Morphine - they were doing all the talking.
Truly Wuzn't Me,
Living Across Cardiac County Line Road,
James Sullivan
2 comments:
This comment is but a mere test.
An entertaining chapter à la A Day in the Life Of the Hospitalized J. Sullivan. The nurses are probably still laughing!
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