Mountain Musings


Bad Case of Loving You




Well, I had quite a scare a couple of weeks ago when I came downstairs to start breakfast and, all of a sudden, I started shaking and feeling faint. So, fearing that I was having a stroke, the Missus rushed me down to Kaiser in Fontucky to get my head examined.


Well, they couldn’t find anything…wrong with my brain that is… it’s a little joke of mine. Ha, ha! Hope you laughed. But, seriously, after hooking me up to an EKG heart-monitoring device, they determined that I didn’t have a heart… problem, that is. Next, they wheeled me into a room with an MRI (I call it “The Tunnel”) and strap you down, so you can’t escape, whilst they attach 14 different electrodes all over your body, while you endure 25 minutes of what sounds like a washing machine with nuts and bolts tumbling around, with all sorts of lovely sounds, like a jackhammer, a circular saw, a car horn, along with an occasional pop, pop, pop, bang, bang and a zzzzzt, zzzzzt, whilst the technician sits behind a thick glass window in another room, monitoring “The Tunnel.”


They still couldn’t find anything inside my head… Ha, ha, fooled you again.


By the end of this eight-hour ordeal, my arm was like a human pin cushion, with needle holes for a dripline of saline solution and other puncture holes to test my blood sugar level, in case of an emergency. It didn’t hurt, though, not like the last time I endured this torture at another hospital, where Nurse Ratched (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest reference) assured me, “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt.” “Ha!” I retorted. “That’s easy for you to say, Ratched.”


I never cared much for that other hospital. By the way, it wasn’t Mountains Community, but when the Missus was giving birth to our first child, all they would give her to eat was rabbit food (carrots, broccoli, etc.). Seems they are devout vegetarians. I didn’t let that bother me, though, cause, when they weren’t looking, I slipped her a burrito from Rosa Maria’s.


On the other hand, I got delicious meals at Kaiser. “My compliments to the chef,” I told the nurse, who was actually kinda’ hot, if you know what I mean. Shhh!… don’t tell the Missus, she’s the jealous type, ya know.


“A pretty face don’t make no pretty heart. I learned that, buddy, from the start. You think I’m cute, a little bit shy, Mama, I ain’t that kind of guy. Doctor, doctor, give me the news, I’ve got a bad case of lovin’ you.” (Bad Case of Loving You” – Robert Palmer – 1978)


As it turns out, all it was was low blood pressure, which reduced the blood flow to my legs and brain, which made me all jittery and wobbly. Don’t worry, though, the doctor is changing my blood pressure meds.


“Doctor, doctor, gimmie the news, I got a bad case of lovin’ you.”


Keep it flyin’, Uncle Mott