Thursday. October 15th
Dear Diary:
The day began like any other, which is to say with me
finding ways to ruin things for the white man by making seemingly innocuous
things appear racist. Case in point: Did
you know that the song used by your “friendly” neighborhood ice cream man has
the same tune as an incredibly racist song from our Nation’s less-enlightened
age? No?
Well, it does. So, Ice Cream Man = racist. What’s that you ask? Does the fact that “Twinkle Twinkle, Little
Star” has the same tune as “The Alphabet Song” mean that English is the same as
Astronomy? Yes. Yes, it does. [Editor’s
Note: No. No, it doesn’t.] No, it
doesn’t, but you’re missing the point…Racism!
(Forget the fact that the idea of children chasing a stranger in a van
down the street without parental supervision is somehow okay, because he has
treats and plays a catchy tune. No,
let’s focus on the song. You can always
more children. That’s just
Science.) What new evils did I uncover (i.e.
invent)? Did you know that “Black
Friday” is so named, because the first slave in America was sold on a Friday?
After I had reached
a stopping point [Which should’ve been
before he began] I got dressed and checked my appointment calendar. On the schedule today; follow-up lab work to
check my blood sugar levels. Needed to
see if things had improved since I had been diagnosed as pre-Diabetic back in
July. I was feeling pretty confident,
having lost 17 pounds since the diagnosis.
(A number which has since increased to 25 lbs. I’m using holes on my belt that I had
previously thought were only for decoration.)
I made it to the
Health Center 30 minutes before my appointment, as I had been fasting and was
eager to begin eating as soon as possible.
Forty-five minutes after my appointment was scheduled to begin, I was
called to the back. Apparently, they had
forgotten I was there. I managed to sit
there patiently without causing a stir; a skill I had learned as a child who
had to walk home from school on multiple occasions after being forgotten by his
parents. (Ah, to be the middle child…Love; exciting and new)
“Sorry, we forgot
about you out there!” the nurse said.
“Used to it,” I
replied.
“Middle child?”
“Yep.”
“Well, we’ll try to
take better care of you from here on out.
I see you’re here for a blood and urine sample.”
“Separately, I
hope.”
“Remains to be
seen. Do you have a preferred arm?”
“Well, my left arm
is my ‘heroin arm’. So…”
I unbuttoned my
cuff, rolled up my sleeve, and looked away.
“Awww. You don’t have to look away. It won’t hurt. I’m pretty good at this.”
“I’m not worried
about it hurting. I’m a grown man! I was just reading that notification over
there to make sure I understood the standard operating procedures of this
healthcare facility.”
“You mean that sign
that says ‘No Food or Drink in the Lab’?”
“Yes.”
“The one right above
your drink?”
“That would be the
one.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I’m finished. I just need to put this gauze on and you can
button up your sleeve. Leave this on for
at least 15 minutes.”
Having misapplied
the gauze, she had to remove it, which tugged at the hair on my arm.
“Don’t you have any
band-aids what don’t give me the ‘ouchies’?!?” I asked with exactly zero tears in
my eyes.
“Sorry, grown man, I
do not…Unless you would like a children’s Spider-Man band-aid.”
{I stared, tilted my head, and raised a brow
as if to say, “Yes”…because I was saying “Yes”.}
“Oops, it’s my last
one.”
{Tilt…brow.}
“I guess I could pick
up some more on the way home.”
{Brow.}
“Fine!” she said as
she placed the band-aid on my arm.”
I clapped rapidly
like a kid in a candy store…given, of course, that the kid didn’t have
Diabetes.
“Anyhoo,” she began,
“I’m also going to need to get a urine sample so we can make sure your kidneys
are still in peak condition.”
“Am I going to need
to cough at any time during this exchange?”
“Not unless you need
to clear your throat.” (Oddly enough, “Let Me Clear My Throat” was
the song I had queued up in the event this examination would be…thorough.)
“Good, because, to
be honest, it’s like an aerial view of Freddy ‘Boom-Boom’ Washington arguing
with Mr. Kotter down there.”
“Thank you for
that.”
“You’re
welcome. I believe in honesty.”
She led me to the
bathroom where I was to provide my fluid.
“Take one of those
cups, provide your sample, place it in here with the top off, and remember to
write your initials on the cup…Just your initials.”
“Well, I wasn’t
planning on writing a haiku…Not that I hai-couldn’t.”
{Silence}
I followed her instructions
to a tee. Unfortunately, I followed them
in the order in which she gave them.
“I had an accident,”
I informed the nurse as I pointed to my shirt sleeve.
“Did you try to
write your initials AFTER you filled the cup?”
“Maybe.”
“Here’s another cup. Write your initials while I watch.”
“Whom should I make
this out to?”
{Silence}
“To whom should I
make this out?”
{Crosses arms and tilts head}
“Out to whom should I make this?” I ask in my Yoda voice.
{Cracks a smile.}
“There it is…”
I provided my sample
without incident.
“Were you humming in
there?”
“I find it aids the
pro-cess.”
“Do I want to know
what you were humming?”
“’Do It, Fluid’ by The
Blackbyrds.”
“That was a
rhetorical question.”
“Shoulda been
clearer.”
After my
appointment, I headed out to lunch since I hadn’t eaten in almost 14 hours.
“What can I start
you off with to drink?”
“Unsweetened tea.”
“UN-sweetened?!?”
“Yeah. I was
recently diagnosed as pre-diabetic.”
“You’re a black
male. Of course, you’re
pre-diabetic. Did they also say you were
pre-hypertension and pre-incarceration?”
“Touché. Did you know the first white sale was to
commemorate giving smallpox blankets to Native Americans?” [Ed’s
Note: So wrong; so many levels.]
“That’s horrible!”
“Ain’t it, tho’?”
Cue the music…
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