Now What?

I’ve been away from the Blog for a while. Well, I did warn you that I’m not frequently moved to share my musings – so, you pays your nickel and you takes your chances…

I suppose that I might, from time to time, give the impression that I am unremittingly depressed or, perhaps, overly introspective, however, that is not really the case. I think that, like most people, I muddle along, vacillating between states of relative joy and relative sorrow and that my life is, generally, no better and no worse than anyone else’s life.

Certainly, I can think of any number of people who, at any given moment, are worse off than I and, of course, there are those whose lives I envy or, at least, I am envious of those aspects of their lives about which I am aware. After all, who really knows what’s going on behind the closed doors of anyone’s life? Those who seem exceptionally fortunate may be dealing with demons the rest of us don’t see, and those who seem exceptionally unfortunate may be truly at peace with their lot in life in some way the rest of us can’t comprehend.

As I said; relative joy and relative sorrow, nothing in the extreme – at least for the most part.

And when one considers life, in the so called grand scheme of things, (if there is, in fact, a “grand scheme” of any sort), one might opine that we all spend our lives moving from one crisis to another, with corresponding periods of relative calm between each storm, during which we regain our composure and, presumably, our perspective. This calm, if you will, serves as an opportunity for us to catch our breath, reflect upon what we might have learned, mourn any losses we might have suffered and enjoy what gains we might have made.

By the same token, should wondrous good fortune inexplicably present itself, I certainly would not ignore the prospect, provided that the cost of said good fortune represented a fair exchange and was, at the same time, within my reach. While I am willing to expend considerable effort to achieve a desired end, I am not prepared to sell my internal organs for a mere seat upgrade.

And the reference to a seat upgrade and internal organs allows me to segue to tonight’s topic…

You see; I’ve actually been out of circulation for some time now.

My wife and I, along with several of our friends, flew down to Las Vegas this past October in hopes of a sybaritic respite from the day to day grind that, as of late, seems to be the prevailing course of our lives. A few days before we were to depart, I noticed some discomfort in my upper abdomen, which I put down to pre-flight jitters. We landed in Vegas and, as it turned out, while my wife and our friends sampled the allegedly hedonistic delights of that fair city, I spent five days and four nights in our hotel room, patiently waiting for my digestive gremlins to tire of their capricious activity.

I did manage to attend one stage show and partake of a quick dinner at one of the strip’s better-known establishments, but only after ingesting enough pharmaceuticals to sedate a Percheron. By the time we boarded our return flight, I was on a first name basis with our hotel’s housekeeping staff, I had seen more of what passes for day-time television in Nevada then any sane person should be asked to endure, and I was just as ignorant about the allure of Las Vegas as when we first landed.

I was also pretty sure it was time to stop fooling around and consult my physician.

Nine weeks, three ultra-sounds, a CT scan, an endoscopy and innumerable blood tests later, I was advised by my personal saw-bones that the past twenty years of excess had finally caught up with me and that if I didn’t mend my self indulgently hell bent ways, various and sundry viscera were going to mutiny and abandon ship in some excruciating and, no doubt, embarrassing fashion.

Well, my body has been trying to embarrass me for years, usually in some disturbingly puerile manner and often in the company of surprisingly unsympathetic witnesses. You’d think that by now my corporeal form, such as it is, would have resigned itself to the fact that I am entirely without a shred of modesty.

In any case, it would appear that the sale of any one of my internal organs probably wouldn’t raise the funds necessary for the aforementioned seat upgrade. Again, most of us deal with life in terms of relative joy and relative sorrow; and in the meantime, I suppose, I’ll continue to muddle along.