Monday, November 30, 2009
Eco-Rehab, a Second Excerpt
"Nurse Anna," was all I could think to say. I swallowed my 'you're pretty' follow-up.
"Hi Steve," she said. "I was told to watch out for you and your sweet-talk. So what, I’m not sweet-talk worthy?"
I shook my head so hard something cracked. I winced back tears. Vehemence and whiplash don’t mix. Nurse Anna steadied my head and dabbed my eyes. "It's okay," she said. "Maybe you're not up to flirting today."
"But I have an erection," I blurted.
She hit me with a pained smiled. I couldn’t tell if she was stifling laughter or vomit.
"Sorry," I said. "That came out wrong."
She smiled again. "I hope so," she laughed. She looked down at her clipboard and her smile flattened. "I think I see what your problem is," she said.
"Whiplash?" I ventured.
"Cars," she said.
"Oh, like the root of my problem," I said.
"No, that would be your whole lifestyle," she said.
My erection was getting worse.
I finally screwed up the courage to ask her out when I was discharged a few days later. "I don’t think I can," she said.
"But I'm not your patient anymore."
"You will be," she said.
I don’t know why I loved this kind of treatment. Masochism I guess. "You gonna sick Nurse Miller on me?" I asked.
"You’re awful," she said. "I can’t date someone who says things like that about Nurse Miller - she’s an inspiring woman. And I definitely can’t date someone who lives like you."
"How do I live?"
Here’s how she said I lived: on a diet of drugs and fat, in a hyper-sedentary high-stress environment, on too little sleep, surrounded by resource-devouring consumer products designed to make bearable my otherwise mechanized, suicidal existence. I couldn’t deny it.
"Who doesn’t live that way?" I asked.
"I don’t," she said.
Here’s how she said she lived: on a chemical-free, mostly local vegan homemade diet, balancing a challenging job she loved with active modes of transportation and regular yoga, ample sleep, in a communal housing arrangement, with minimal possessions.
"I can live like that," I said.
Poor man had a terrible skin decease and had to be covered in cream every day. His whole body, including the you know what. And every day when the nurse massaged in the cream on his you know what he ejaculated all over her to her chagrin. So funny!
I offer my address:
Meoff. Jack. 69 Jarvis Street
Very good interesting snapshot Ben.
I loved the paragraph before "Who doesn't live this way" and the description of the nurse who wanted to rip off the hands as a weapon against the gonads!
all the best to you my friend and great stuff as always!!
Benji's first name is actually Chris. Last name Benjamin.
...Been reading his ecology stories for the Canadian East Coast newspapers and magazines.
The Singing Detective is excellent. Dennis Potter's other works are well worth checking out.
In the meantime, back to writing about farming, a truly ridiculous occupation [not farming, *writing* about farming].
MD: thanks for that, haven't seen that one but I do love me some English dark humour so I'll check it out. [It's English right? It sounds English.] Thanks also for your lovely audio episodes and I hope to listen again soon. Happy holidays.
Ivan: o you ascerbic child grown old, how you provoke the fat line stretched unifying and thin over emotion and thought, thanks for the frat humour and tenacious reading. Happy holidays.
TWM: wow, what a rough go you've had with nurses. i'm related to a few of them and they've always kept me in line. Happy holidays and if you ever get north of the border around Christmas let me know, we can self-medicate with libations.
Devin: ha, speaking of frat humour, yeah I liked that line too as silly as it was. Thanks for your always kind comments and enthusiasm. Look forward to re-visiting your blog soon.
Toast: Happy Holidays. What's your next escape plan?
Watch this space.