Somethin’s Gonna Get Ya
A very long, weary summer is winding down. Long because, well, life happened this summer on several fronts. Good things and bad things and all manner of emotions from elation to devastation.
Weary because life happened on several fronts and it seems the heat and humidity will hang around forever.
And weary because our furry rescue babies have decided three a.m. on multiple random days per week is a good time to beg for wet food.
And if we ignore their cries of “I’m dying right this very second” and kick them out to the bonus room—with water, dry food, and litter box—they go on a hunting spree. Killing things dead and hiding them in said room.
Now that part of the house smells like roadkill.
Proving that these fur babies aren’t hungry at all—or they’d have eaten whatever carcass they’d come across.
Nope. They just want us tired and addlebrained so we become a little more liberal with the Fancy Feast Florentine with garden veggies and white salmon.
And as I write this, I’m enduring yet another hospital waiting room hoping the guy sitting across from me wearing that blue-and-white face mask is doing so because he’s afraid of what I may be carrying. Hoping that he’s not wearing that blue-and-white face mask, flimsy and gaping around the right side of his mouth, because of what he actually is carrying.
I sit here while a family member endures the pokes and prods and anxiety of some pretty serious tests. Tests that will determine major medical decisions in the season to come.
My job is easier. Waiting out here with face-mask guy and complaining about how bad my house smells. Even though being here makes me want to don the hard had and safety vest and snort hand sanitizer.
Oh, wait. Maybe not the hand sanitizer, because—
I just scrolled through social feeds and my email a moment ago.
I get those emergency alert emails. The ones with the heads-up regarding SUV-eating fog or house-twirling tornado threats.
But lately that emergency network’s been emailing lots of product recalls. Lots and lots. Dozens of foods and drugs and hand sanitizers. A couple are pumpkin-spiced products—lotions, cookies, soap. Yeah, Fall!
The culprits spawning these recalls? Salmonella (don’t eat any salad—ever), botulism (in the salmon—watch out kitties), Listeria monocytogenes (wouldn’t that be fun?), E.coli, blue plastic bits. Glass particulates.
Blue plastic bits? Glass particulates? Really?
The wording on a recalled piece of medical equipment: The connector could disconnect from the endotracheal tube, resulting in insufficient oxygenation of the patient.
Great. The very thing designed to aide my breathing in the event that I swallow too many blue plastic bits and glass particulates may very well smother me.
The door swings open and a nurse calls a man’s first name. Face mask guy rises on shaky legs and follows her dutifully into the labyrinth of back room X-ray suits and CT scan arenas.
Poor thing. I wonder what sent him here.
I wonder how my family member will fare. I wonder if the results will send us down another sterile labyrinth in a different part of the hospital.
I wonder if they stuck me in a head-to-toe machine, would they find a half dozen ailments that I didn’t know about?
We’re every one all full up on dormant problems. All of us ticking time bombs. Isn’t that fun to think about?
Pumpkin spice, blue plastic bits, and ticking tumors?
It unsettles me. Somethin’s gonna get ya. I’d better get writing fast.
Better finish this dream of mine before the arsenic-laced pumpkin spice hand sanitizer soaks into my skin.
Better finish this next short story and blog post before the radiation seeping through the should’ve-been-replaced-long-ago lead barrier reaches my feet here in the waiting room.
Better call the loved ones and tell them what they mean to me.
Better just chill out. ‘Cause somethin’s gonna get me. Maybe not today or tomorrow or even this decade.
But something will. Sometime.
Worrying about it will most certainly cause one’s demise sooner rather than later.
Enjoy the season. The dream. The loved ones. Take the precautions you can take.
And stay off the recall sites. No number of hard hats, goggles, or safety vests can shield you from the gazillion dangers that lurk around every corner.
I’m looking forward to crisp, humidity-free air and the bursts of colors from the trees before they go dormant for the winter. Facebook and Pinterest are ablaze with mum decor, baggy sweaters, and flavoring all things with pumpkin spice aromas.
I’ll take the sweaters and the mums.
You can keep the pumpkin spice hand sanitizer.
Update: Five minutes after I ran this blog post through my spell check, I got another email ding. Check your chicken, people. Check your chicken!! Especially if its extra chewy…
Also your trampolines, post-tattoo itch creams, and snowmobiles. Apparently, you could break your neck and overdose on lidocaine all while setting yourself on fire in the snow.