Got a text message earlier from a buddy of mine explaining that the medical proceedure he was supposed to have done yesterday didn't happen because several things went wrong: His platelet count was too high and it made his blood thin, then he developed an airbubble in his stomach that he couldn't "burp out" and that caused him severe chest pain, so they thought he was having a heart attack and sent hime down to the E.R. where he spent another 3 hours... All told, he spent a total of nine hours at the hospital and got absolutely nothing accomplished!
He finished up by saying, "That was MY friday, how was yours?"
I sent him back the following message:
Dear Danny,
My Friday was pretty good... To a point.
The sun was shining all day long, and I haven't seen much sunshine for the past three weeks. And I got empty and re-loaded and headed home in pretty good time - And that's always a plus...
BUT... Since I had my gallbladder taken out, I really have to watch what I eat because of the way my body processes fats. Too much fat and I usually have to find a restroom pretty quick... Or else! ...If I can... (Usually I have about 10 minutes notice from the time my guts start rumbling.) Friday (yesterday) I only got about
3 minutes notice...
I was just West of Lebanon (Tn.) when my guts started rumbling. I knew the Pilot Truck Stop was coming up in about 3 miles and figured I'd have plenty of time. Got to the truckstop and parked on the fuel island, then got doubled over (literally!) with
severe intestinal distress. Finally got headed for the mens room and only had about 30 feet to go when... YEP! Sh*t my britches in the middle of the f*cking truckstop!
...Don't envy your time at the hospital, but I'd gladly trade 9 hours of my life for clean drawers and having my dignity back!
Wanna' trade Fridays, Danny?
