What’s on my mind? Stuff happens. Stupid stuff, to be sure. Stupid medical stuff I wouldn’t normally mention.
A few days ago, I had the kind of minor, out-of-the-blue “medical incident” that eventually knocks on everyone’s door. And so it was that a technician wired me up and plugged me in. I distinctly remember her telling me that I shouldn’t remove the electrodes, but that she would do it.
Tottering home, I went about my daily business, forgetting that a machine would be sending NASA (what-ev-er!) beep-beeps about my bawdy parts. Sitting vaguely reminded me of the electric chair (“I’ll tawk! I’ll tawk! I wuz framed!”), so I tried not to sit too much.
Today was the day the electrodes came off. We dutifully drove to the technician’s office, only to find her AWOL. The woman who answered my knock on the COVID-secured door said she couldn’t unplug me because she knew nozzink about electrodes, advanced physics, the collision of stars in the universe, or stupid medical stuff.
She told me to go unplug myself. I considered answering in kind, but would never swear at a well-meaning, hard-working essential worker. I whinged: “I don’t know how to do-o-o it! I can’t re-e-e-ach those places!” She nodded toward our car, with Himself behind the wheel.
“Zat your husband?” she asked. “Yeah,” I said. “He can unplug you,” she said, before closing the door in my face.
When I told Himself what had happened, he said: “Here, let me help you!” He’s the obnoxious, cheerful type.
When he tried, I said: “No! Get away from me!” I’m the obnoxious, independent type.
I bent, I contorted, but couldn’t quite manage the plugs. So Himself took a turn, reaching under … Never mind what he reached under! He unclipped the $#@! plugs. I was happy to have them off - so happy that if I were a smoker, I might have had one.
Considerably more relaxed, I knocked on the door, again. The same woman appeared.
Handing her the bag of electrodes, I said: “Look, I’m really sorry I was short with you a couple of minutes ago. You were right. My husband took everything off. We’ve been married 10 years: It’s the closest thing to car sex we’ve ever had.”
© Nicole Parton, 2020
