"It's Always Something..."

Friends:


"It's always something!"

That's what Lewis, my dentist said as I lay reclined-- you know, that helpless position dentists put you in before you really get “drilled." With drill in hand, whirring away, anxious to meet my helpless tooth, he looked like an alien creature. His mouth is covered by a surgeon's mask (that should have been a clue), hiding I'm sure a smurk that probably said, "Pain is good attitude adjustment," perhaps his life's warped creed. He had on glasses, big black rims and thick lens, enhanced by a pair of night¬-vision looking goggles, the kind the military uses to search out the enemy. Hovering just above and between the mechanical eyeballs was a headlight, and it changed colors from white to yellow, winking at me at will. Believe me, it was a surreal sight.

I survived the first round of drilling, and as he neared completion (somebody heard my prayers!), he looked at the nurse, shook his head, and said, "It's always something ... ," at which time I lost consciousness. After recovering, and later that day, I found myself enduring an inquisition by my banker, that same once-nice shylock who once paid for lunches but who now “summons" me over to his dingy office to discuss the precarious state of my loans. You know the type. He asked, "Will you ever pay me off" I answered with something intentionally vague, as usual (bankers can't take the truth, you know!), to which he said "It's always something .... " With that comment, I figured things would only get worse, so I tried a new tactic by feigning pain, holding my chest and asking him to quickly call 911 - dodged the bullet again!

Of course there's more. But time and space won't allow me to tell all the details of the nuclear treadmill test - you know, the one where they inject you full of radioactive isotopes and peer into your arteries. Soon I'm at a red-line heart rate of extreme proportion and the nurse exclaims, "It's always something ...” as she examines the EKG machine and shakes her head. As I was being placed on the stretcher, I heard her say, "So sorry, it was just a misread."

Yes, it's true, "It's always something," and you don't even want to know the details about my locking my keys in the car! See what happens when you come to Atlanta? In summary, I guess I was lucky to survive the day, and in retrospect it seems to me that the common link to today's "it's" was the costs of survival of "it" all --- excessive is too mild of a word. And believe me, you can get “drilled" in more ways than one! In conclusion, while I don't know about you, I would surely like to have one day ... just one day ... , and soon, with no “it's" at all in it.


Bud
March 29, 2007