The doctor walked briskly into the examination room and directly to where the patient lay in obvious pain. "So what seems to be the problem?", he asked.
The patient, rather than describing his injury, which is what the doctor expected, launched into to an exceptionally convoluted accounting of the incident that apparently led to his eventual arrival at the ER.
"OK. So it's really kind of silly, but it's not really my fault. The owner of the gym even admitted that the stupid thing was too close to the wall. But they bought all of this new stuff and had to really crowd everything in there and they just put it too close to the wall. *Deep breath* Anyway, I was getting up to speed gradually--just passing 4 and a half miles an hour--when I first noticed that there were mirrors on 3 sides of me and I could see myself in all 3 at the same time. Although the third one I could only see as a reflection in the other 2. Then there was the reflection of my reflection in the one in front of me and I could see the reflection of that reflection in the one behind me as a reflection in the one in front of me. And it seemed to go on endlessly, just one reflection of another one of another one. So I wanted to see if I could actually see all the way to the end of them to the very last one. You know, what it would be like--my back or my front at the very end. I guess it was about the time I was getting up to full speed--maybe 6 and a half miles an hour--that I sort of lost focus on what I was doing because of the mirrors and I fell. Then, of course, the belt kept on going and swept me off the back of the thing and then because the wall was too close, like I said before, I was pinned between the belt and the wall lying on my back against the belt and it just kept turning. I know I probably should have used the emergency stop cord, but nobody uses them. Heck, most of them are tied around the bars out of the way. And I couldn't get up because I was more or less trapped there until a couple of the other people came and grabbed me and pulled me off of the thing. Then the ambulance came and they...."
Finally the doctor interrupted and asked, "Where are you hurt?" And the patient rolled to one side so the doc could see his back and there was a symmetrical hollow all the way across his it just below the shoulder blades that was nothing but raw meat and blood. "You're telling me you did this by falling off of a treadmill?!!" he exclaimed.
"Yeah", the patient said. "That's what that whole story was about. I should get a hell of a settlement out of it," he smiled.
The doctor said, very calmly, "Close your eyes for me"; which the patient did. The doctor planted his foot firmly against the wall of the examination room, for leverage, and punched the guy dead in the face. "Idiot", he mumbled as he walked out.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
RUSH LIMBAUGH IS THE ANTI-CHRIST!!!!!
Ok. That's it. Nothing else. Just needed to get that out of my system. Carry on now.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Patchwork
It has been noted that from great heights--from a plane, for example--the earth looks like a patchwork. Different sections of land joining together at odd angles. Shades of greens and browns butting together and overlapping. Blues and blacks intermingled.
This is a view I have often these days, as I travel back and forth across the country.
Staring out the window on one of these seemingly endless flights recently I was struck by the patterns and the way the colors seem to change depth and shade, sometimes suddenly and sometimes gradually. I could see my life in those changes. I could see it from a great height and I saw the patchwork that it is; the days and years running together as different shades of colors. Bad times, angry times are very dark and difficult to penetrate--from above or on the ground. They are overgrown and uninviting, promising only wounds and danger. The good times are airy and light. A mild breeze blows through them, pleasantly. Birds sing cheerily, inviting me in.
It was interesting that sometimes the border between the light colors and the dark ones would be clearly defined; the transition immediate and easily discernible. Those were times when my life changed suddenly--a wrong choice or a right one; bad luck or good. Something changed things with frightening speed so that the colors could not blend. I could not prepare or be forewarned. The change from dark back to light was often less severe, as if exiting the darkness is more of a process that must be lived out. Or perhaps it's just that we must suffer the consequences of our actions; and, often, the actions of others.
I think the places where the transition from light to dark is more gradual are more frightening somehow. They seem to say that I should have seen this one coming. The warning signs were there and I missed them. Ignored them? Likely. The dark patches after these entries were deeper and wider, taking much longer to blend back into paler shades.
Waters run through the scene as well. Sometimes shallow brooks joyfully falling across stones with grassy meadows on either side; a few willows on the bank for shade and rest. Other times raging, gushing, angrily rushing torrents of the blackest depths. Screaming "Danger" and offering no way to cross. Filled with sharp edges and pain. I marvelled at them, that I had emerged from them.
The further along this path I was able to see, the less frequent the dark patches appeared. And they seemed to be less dense and narrower. Am I wiser, or luckier? Not a fair question, perhaps. Maybe just less energetic.
Try as I might, I could not make out what lay ahead. It was hidden from me in swirling mists and semi-darkness. For the best, I suppose. For the best.
This is a view I have often these days, as I travel back and forth across the country.
Staring out the window on one of these seemingly endless flights recently I was struck by the patterns and the way the colors seem to change depth and shade, sometimes suddenly and sometimes gradually. I could see my life in those changes. I could see it from a great height and I saw the patchwork that it is; the days and years running together as different shades of colors. Bad times, angry times are very dark and difficult to penetrate--from above or on the ground. They are overgrown and uninviting, promising only wounds and danger. The good times are airy and light. A mild breeze blows through them, pleasantly. Birds sing cheerily, inviting me in.
It was interesting that sometimes the border between the light colors and the dark ones would be clearly defined; the transition immediate and easily discernible. Those were times when my life changed suddenly--a wrong choice or a right one; bad luck or good. Something changed things with frightening speed so that the colors could not blend. I could not prepare or be forewarned. The change from dark back to light was often less severe, as if exiting the darkness is more of a process that must be lived out. Or perhaps it's just that we must suffer the consequences of our actions; and, often, the actions of others.
I think the places where the transition from light to dark is more gradual are more frightening somehow. They seem to say that I should have seen this one coming. The warning signs were there and I missed them. Ignored them? Likely. The dark patches after these entries were deeper and wider, taking much longer to blend back into paler shades.
Waters run through the scene as well. Sometimes shallow brooks joyfully falling across stones with grassy meadows on either side; a few willows on the bank for shade and rest. Other times raging, gushing, angrily rushing torrents of the blackest depths. Screaming "Danger" and offering no way to cross. Filled with sharp edges and pain. I marvelled at them, that I had emerged from them.
The further along this path I was able to see, the less frequent the dark patches appeared. And they seemed to be less dense and narrower. Am I wiser, or luckier? Not a fair question, perhaps. Maybe just less energetic.
Try as I might, I could not make out what lay ahead. It was hidden from me in swirling mists and semi-darkness. For the best, I suppose. For the best.
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