WISDOM OF THE AGES

They say that with age comes wisdom… well… it appears that may be true. After several days of people exploring what’s left of my brain the following has been confirmed: I am a MENSA level genius… with the memory of a gnat and the dexterity of an arthritic chimpanzee. I am officially an “Idiot Savant” and must still wear a helmet when I ride on the short bus. There’s something strangely comforting about knowing this and means… I have no fucking idea what it means… it must be the meds…now, where was I? There’s always that surreal “What does it all mean/Waiting for Godot” period of time from after you leave the doctor’s office and when the cab arrives these days. A timeframe where you find yourself reflecting on what just happened and, in some cases, over-analyzing the situation with statements bouncing around in your head like “You don’t have dementia or Alzheimer’s but….” “but” what!? It thrills me to no end to know I’m going to lose my memory “just because”. That’s a “thrill” I can do without, thank-you very much! Then I get home to find out some nutbag blew up a bunch of innocent people in Boston… suddenly I can’t lose my memory fast enough. The next day I had to meet with Manny, Moe and Jack the Gastrointestinal boys. It appeared from recent tests I’m a little over a quart low in the blood department and everyone was a little curious about how and where I was leaking fluids from. I know my body pretty well and when something isn’t right (and something hasn’t been right for a while now). You don’t survive two dozen heart attacks without having a better than average idea of what’s going on inside. Needless to say, it came as no surprise that they want to take a look inside next week. Procedures seem to advance at a speed equal to the changes in smart phones. Instead of having to drink great heaping gobs of that awful stuff before surgery they simply scare the shit out of you by looking serious and asking “Has anyone in your family ever had Colon cancer?” and BOOM… clean as a whistle. Thank God there was a Target next door or I’d have had to ride home naked. I find myself dreading the surgery. Not because of what they may find but… of what some knucklehead might have blown up while I was in there this time around…what a fucking world.