The Past Four Weeks (or) How The Nazi's Lost The War

Perspective. I suppose I’m trying to find some after the last few weeks.

Some four weeks ago I dropped off the face of the earth. This is something I do when things go rapidly south.

A series of disasterous occurrences were culminated with a horrifying incident in which I’d been prescribed a wrong medication, a simple cream for a facial rash. however, the medicine I was wrongly given wasn’t meant for use on the face. I followed up with a visit to a specialist after some disturbing symptoms, expecting to be in and out in five minutes with a different medication.

The next thing I know I’ve been stripped naked and they’re photographing every inch of my body to "document changes over the next few weeks".

Apparently, this medication can cause skin cancer (among other nasty issues) to crop up even when used properly. On your face? Ominous results.

After a series of biopsies, I’m told to return in a month for the test results.

It’s safe to say I all but snapped. Fed up with the world, I stayed home for a week and refused to do anything beyond the simplest tasks.

When it rains, it pours...and I’m putting on my flood pants and manning the oars in the life boat.


I’ve decided that life, the universe and everything was a terrible idea and I can sympathize with God for taking a long rest on that seventh day; after seeing what he’d created. I’m sure he felt the need to take two aspirin and have a long lie down.

I would probably still be puttering about the apartment, obsessing on my latest hobby;

I’d just started reading a detailed book on Nazi Germany during WWII.

I’d taken to renaming our cats after members of the German National Socialist Party and was trying to get them to re-enact various famous historical meetings of the German High Command.

I was working on the famous "showdown" between  General Rommel and Hitler when my wife insisted I stop. This, by the way, involved my waiting until most of the cats where sleeping contentedly and taking "Hitler" (Cat Matriarch of the Clan) and tossing her rudely into the pile while I shouted;

"It’S A PUTSCH!!! It’s A PUTSCH!!!"

Needless to say, the whole household was fed up with my antics. So when I received a call from an associate saying his pianist was in hospital and he needed a replacement, I took him up on the offer. This is wedding band work, which is about as exciting as watching George Bush’s mother sew her son’s name tags into his underwear (prevents diplomatic incidents).

But what the hell, it gets me out of the house before General Patton (my wife) and Hitler (Irritated Matriarch Cat) form a treaty and drive ME out of Europe. She’d caught me contemplating using a black marker to draw a little mustache on Kitty. I was declared an irritant, a menace and told to get a hobby. (A DIFFERENT hobby.)

So I spent a week upstate. A fairly antisocial week as when I wasn’t working I was reading. I can now talk in detail about the events in Germany during WWII (Of which my Wife insists I DON’T do around her, she’s fed up with the whole War Experience).


I can now discuss the proper way to lead a tank/infantry assault on a hedgerow which has German infantry entrenched and dug in. Apparently hedgerows were a huge problem in Normandy. I always assumed it was all those hedgehogs getting into the supply depots and eating all the rations but...go figure.


I can discuss in detail why being in a Sherman tank and coming around a bend to find you are facing a Panzer tank is a bad thing for the men in the Sherman tank.

A...very bad thing.

*sigh*

Ah, I was told that I don’t have cancer.


It was very peculiar. The doctor came into the office, told me the tests where negative, and shook my hand as if I’d just won a General Election in a landslide.

Very peculiar indeed. The whole thing has reinforced my distrust of doctors...and left me with this sudden urge to run for office.