Back in 1962, the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC-TV) had a program called, "That Was The Week That Was," hosted by humorist and satirist David Frost. The American version of this ran in the 1964-65 season. Can't say I remember anything specific about these broadcasts other than my father understood the humor better than I. Try to imagine Saturday Night Live hosted by George Carlin every week focused exclusively on lampooning whatever happened in the news during the previous week.
In real life most weeks just run along quietly, often boringly; passing from one to the other and into the mist of memory.
But, did you ever have one of those weeks for which the only salve is self-lampooning?
Day went well enough, if you only count the first half-hour and not the rest of the day. After about 2 hours of chest pain gave up and helped break in Union Hospital's super-duper new ER. Cardiac observation, though, is still in old wing. I think it was a lot of fuss just to learn morphine doesn't help when they pull off medical tape.
For those not familiar with the drill, 85 blood tests later left me with "no serious or life threatening" problems. If you didn't have a heart attack, out you go with instructions to "see your cardiologist Tuesday." I honestly have no complaints, food is better at home and nobody wakes a guy up to ask if he's asleep.
Seems God and Pastor Rich can get along without me after all. Remembered a preacher who once said sometimes the holiest thing to do is rest.
It took almost two full years to run through 60 of them, but last of Vicodin was celebrated.
Dr. Dalloul was suspiciously bright-eyed when I agreed it was time to do another heart catheterization. Today? Tomorrow? Thursday at the latest. Not sure if was because I'd been putting him off for almost a year, or his delight in knowing they would be sticking me with all those needles. In the interest of eliminating the usual suspect, tomorrow, 8 a.m., would do fine.
Why, exactly, does the hospital insist you be there by 6 a.m., when everybody knows the doctor won't be in before nine? The procedure itself was almost routine; proving again the human persona can adjust to anything. There is a certain relief in knowing you are definitely not going to have a heart attack in the very near future, reprieve in learning no pacemaker has your name on it. There's an old saying in the medical profession that goes "look for horses, not zebras." I take that to mean eliminate the most obvious first. Next week we hunt zebra.
The long planned, long delayed, bathroom floor replacement project finally began. Scheduled for 8 a.m., called and said he'd be delayed until 10 a.m. If only doctors could do that. We stayed at a Terre Haute motel, the first such sojourn since Ronald Reagan was President. Purely for nostalgic ambiance they gave us a mattress from the Reagan era. Between the rain and walk from the car my chronically hurting leg hurt badly; returning to the car to determine if there were any Tylenol therein seemed counter-intuitive. Hungry, the Vending Area sported only a pop machine. In the morning it was indeterminate whether I had ended the week any better than it began.
So, That Was The Week That Was. Next week we go back to our usual boring life (and writing another boring blog). And how was your week?
David L. Lewis is an observer of and sometimes commentator on life who may be reached via e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.