Welcome back, Chuck! Why, thank you. Don’t mind if I do. . .
So, last Friday, I had a double stent put into my “Widow-Maker” artery, which was 95% clogged.
Listen up, my fellow Americans, and others. LISTEN TO YOUR BODY!
It took me a while, but I finally deigned to go to the ER, which, of course, we all want to avoid because we think of it as a Covid virus factory.
Several months ago, I found my stamina waning. For my side hustle (writing is my real job, even though I make no money off it), I usually walk 3-5 miles a day. It’s a part of the culture where I work that people will walk on their breaks throughout the day, then compare steps on their phones. So, I know I was walking 3-5 miles a day. And I usually do it at a pretty good clip.
So, back to waning. . .I soon reached a point where I could no longer make it from one end of the building to the other without taking a break. Not good, especially for a guy who trained hard when he was younger(me, BTW), didn’t smoke, and had a drink about 2 times a year.
Now, I am not “fat.” But my BMI says I am “obese.” I am 6’4 and about 250 lbs. But I guess BMI was right.
Somehow, my Left Anterior Descending Artery (LAD) became clogged.
It took me a while, but I finally went to the emergency room, where everything came back normal. They gave me the option of spending the night and having a stress test the next morning, or going home and scheduling it outpatient. I, unfortunately, chose the latter. It took the a month to schedule me, then a week to schedule the procedure.
Foolish of me. See, I convinced myself there was NO WAY my heart could be a problem. I convinced myself it was asthma and started using my inhalers, again. I convinced myself I developed an adult onset of a peanut allergy because I love PB&J sammies. Well, I was wrong, and now I can’t eat ‘em anyway, dammit!
So, I had the procedure last Friday, the 10th. Tomorrow is my 59th birthday. Happy Mother-Fuckin’ Birthday to ME! I am alive!
So, what does this have to do with ‘Writing for Fun?”
Well, moral of the story is this: turn your tragedy into wine. In other words, write a humorous or satirical story about your journey. Who cares what others think.
Start writing, have fun. As an example, below is a link to the first of the many stories I will write on this topic until people get tired of giving me gifts, money, claps, laughs, pity, and sympathy. Once I’ve milked this baby for all she’s worth, well, I’ll move onto something less, um, personal.
In the meantime, here is my link. Enjoy, please comment, and share with others. And WRITE! (If you do write something, put the link in the comments. I’d love to read it.)
Naked Sex Boobies Butt by Charles “Chuck” Roast
Write On!
Chuck
First of all, HAPPPPPPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYY!!!!
Okay now onto the real thing here. I'm glad you took the initiative to get checked out, especially when it can save your life. Unlike me who would rather die suddenly than know there's something wrong with me. Medical things give me severe anxiety, in case you didn't read my piece about skin cancer surgery last year. I'm hilarious but irrational when I'm afraid of medical procedures.
Stay with us Chuck! You got this ❤❤