Hands Of Steel,
Not Today
by John Yelavich
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.
I sat quietly,
waiting and hoping for a young and pretty
technician with a gentle, soothing touch. I
watched 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!
It looked like
I struck out.
Suddenly I
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 sensed that
my luck had changed.
She was all
business, no friendly chit chat. The only words
she spoke were, “Hold your breath and
breathe again.” 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’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.
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