For a while during my lifetime I told people I
wanted to be buried naked with my butt sticking
out of the casket. When asked why I would reply
that big shots wanted me to kiss their kiester
for years so they can kiss mine when I was leaving.
A trip to the Emergency Room today changed that
train of thought. Wearing a hospital gown, having
wires and tubes coming out all over, and being
wheeled around in a skinny bed for tests is a bit
After explaining some of my scars, several blood
tests, an EKG, an X-ray, breathing treatments,
several nurses and a doctor coming into the room, I
was told the problem was I couldn’t breathe and my
blood pressure was a little high.
In the mean time, I noticed what my once supple
body had become. My arms looked like they were
covered in chicken skin. Pale and dotted with little
bumps. I could only imagine what my backside
would look like.
So with this new knowledge, and the fact that some
may mistake my body in this position as claim to
radical Islam, I no longer wish to buried naked.
My new wardrobe will be a long-sleeved street
racing t-shirt, my favorite welding helmet and
gloves, and a pair of Wrangler’s.
I’d like to thank my wife for bugging me enough to
make me go this morning, the good Lord for not
taking me yet, and the E.R. staff who had to put up
with this old gearhead.
Comments are always welcome.