• a humdinger •

You might find it ironic
for me to describe Chronic,
a story about death and dying,
as ‘a slice of life’.
In fact, throughout,
the question of ‘why?’,
and ‘why me?’,
seems pervasive,
and unanswerable,
which it is, except, for me,
‘and why not?’,
‘and why not (me)?’,
keeps rolling through my head,
Is it just me, I wonder,
or do others see this life
as an equal opportunity
or journey,
or what have you,
and that moral judgements
as to good or bad outcomes,
or of success or happiness,
and whatnot, cannot
truly be assessed
until after the final curtain falls,
so you’ll never know it yourself,
truth be told, friend,
being dead and all?
So, it’s a question for family,
and society,
and friends,
and ‘former friends’,
and what have you,
to make the call.
And honestly, who cares
what other people think, anywhoo?
So, don’t complain;
choose to be happy,
or fulfilled, or engaged,
or grateful, or enthralled,
or stoic, or philosophical,
or selfless, or starry-eyed,
or evangelical, or ‘evolved’ –
just between we two,
it’s up to you –
whatever floats your boat.
It’s a one way ride,
and frequently fabulous.
Enjoy the view.
Oh, and on a final note,
the movie (with Tim Roth),
is a humdinger, too.
~ Tim Burchfield



• colonoscomedy •

Just before my procedure, I asked Dr. Bauer if he wanted to hear my colonoscopy joke. He did.
“You should meet my gastrointerologist,” I say. “He’s a nice guy, a good doctor, and tops in his field. He could use some work on his ‘bedside manner’, though. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, only, being a bit reticent about such things, I think I should prefer if he didn’t come bounding into the examination room, his finger in the air, with a resounding, ‘Resistance is useless!”
He laughed, the attending nurse, too. We all did. It was catharsis, short and sweet, all around. There was love in the room.
They had just then infused my saline drip with ‘the good stuff’, as they call it. I was feeling pretty relaxed, better, in fact, than I’ve felt in years.
“That’s funny!” enthused the good doctor. I could tell he meant it, something about his eyes. When he smiles, they smile too. What a lovely man. The nurse now had angels’ wings, and a glow about her head.
I looked around the spare operating theatre. Small, but still bigger than my first New York apartment, I reminded myself. Cozy…but dimly lit, which surprised me, so I said, “We’re really doing my procedure in here? Kinda dark, isn’t it, Doctor Bauer?”
“Not to worry,” he assured me.
“We work in the dark,” he said.
~ Tim Burchfield