 |
 |
Ne treatments however valuable do often border on the comical. What is funnier is how my friends nad relatives get the facts wrong ie telling me about the use of aborted pig foetuses. I wrote a poem a while back that talks about it.Hope you like it! Cliches And Platitudes for some obscure reason my illness makes otherwise normal, rational individuals feel obligated to say something they think is wise inspiring dragging ancient trunks from dim cobwebbed recesses of their minds' attics they rummage through dusty cliches and moldy platitudes bought at some "out-moded sayings" garage sale they knew would be useful one day selecting one that looks good as new they prepare to deliver it with appropriate solemn reverence in desperation I load my "vacant face" that I once reserved for vacuum cleaner salesmen my mother sent as a twisted prank it is as ineffective now as back then they scratch their chins (real men scratch their behinds) then lean back looking contemplative (real men belch and crush beer cans on their heads) I want to jump up and scream no, don't say it but I can't move quickly enough and anyway wouldn't have the heart they say I know how you must feel I nod silently gritting my teeth choking back the urge to reply I'm sorry you haven't the foggiest notion how I feel not the slightest idea the faintest clue I know they mean well but I swear I will keep my chin up as I vomit on the next person who tells me that they would probably blithely go on with the fascinating story of their uncle john (who's dead now maybe you knew him) who by some amazing coincidence also had parkinson's or was it arthritis? (groan) anyway right till the end he could tell time chew his own food even walking a mile every day (took all day) with his pet turtle henry or was it harold? at this point I'm tempted to ask how he died did they bore him to death? after exhausting their supply of trite sayings and dead relatives with Parkinson's comes the medical marvels segment where someone has read of a new cure in the national enquirer or was it reader's digest? or saw it on tv on oprah winfrey or the home shopping channel where it says if you stand on one leg under a palm tree eating green cheese reciting the alphabet backwards for 5.5 hours every tuesday for 6 months... on the other hand when I'm having a bad day and someone innocently asks how I am if I don't reply with brief sarcasm but in lengthy boring detail me? boring? perhaps I am not as interesting as I presume Hmmm- I'll have to sleep on that one Bill Harrington