Hands of Steel, Not Today

by on March 16, 2019 :: 0 comments

photo "The Spectre" by Ty Malone

My urologist recently asked me, “John do you know where you are going and have you found the right path to clarity of expression and urination?” As I looked at him with a quizzical expression, he directed his nurse to schedule some tests for me at Community Hospital. I thought I was feeling fine, but I guess my doctor wants to make sure that I am on the right path to wherever it is I’m going.

My first scheduled test was an ultrasound. There were six of us in the Radiology waiting room and by my observed calculations, I should have been number four in line. I have had these tests before and the last one was tortuous. The technician had hands of steel and she applied so much pressure that I thought I would need urgent care from the post-procedure bruising.

Whenever I go out in public, I make sure that I wear my best cologne. You never know who you are going to meet along the way. Just because I have reached a mature age doesn’t mean I should cast aside good grooming habits. I don’t waste it on the old guys I meet with at our trustees meetings, nor do I waste it on the birds, squirrels and deer that I see when I’m working in the yard.

Today’s cold, damp weather had awakened my slumbering aches and pains and I needed something to make me feel better about myself. My only hope was to have a young and pretty technician with a gentle, soothing touch to perform the procedure. That would help me forget about Mr. Arthritis visiting me today.

I sat quietly, waiting and watching as the patients were greeted by the technicians.

Tech #1: She was middle-aged, built like a fireplug and had man-hands; just not what I wanted or needed

Tech #2: Young, twenty something male wearing coke bottle glasses. Oh no!

Tech #3: An older gentleman who could have been a Wilford Brimley look alike.

It looked like I struck out.

Suddenly, nervous anticipation began to consume my thoughts. I was praying for a young girl with delicate hands, hoping that this ultrasound would be a little bit more enjoyable than the last one.

I soon heard my name being called and I looked up and was greeted by a young woman who looked like she was about twenty-five. She had a blonde streak in her auburn hair and her makeup accentuated her naturally pretty features. She was blessed with a curvy figure that her burgundy scrubs could not hide.

I could now sense that my luck had changed.

She was all business, no friendly chit chat. The only words she spoke were, “Hold your breath, breathe again and you smell nice.” I lied on the bed in a heavenly state as she used the applicator like a magic wand and rolled it across my mid-section.

She did her thing and then it was over.

I said, “Is that all there is?”

She said, “Yes.”

The experience was like a memory of a date gone wrong. You get that one lucky break and take out the girl of your dreams. She is gorgeous but you soon find out that just being pretty doesn’t always go along with a warm personality. The evening falls flat and you are left more than a bit bewildered. That hopeful dream date soon morphed into a nightmare.

I proceeded to the next station for a blood test and was greeted by a young blonde with a smile as big and bright as the sun. Just by the warmth of her voice, you could tell that she was blessed with a sweet personality. She was a breath of fresh air. Unfortunately the test was over and done so quickly that there was no time for pleasant conversation.

I walked to my car, thinking that even though there were gray skies above, today just might have the makings of a lucky day.

I’m home now and reality has kicked me in the head. I’m not twenty-five anymore and my only consolation is that my ninety-year old neighbor, Phyllis, considers me to be her eye candy.

editors note:

Expectations? Kick ‘em to the curb! That’s the only way to dance down the street, not looking for a car or a kiss to hit you, but to know you’ll experience life. ~ ty malone

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