I just deleted the "whole story;" couldn't bring myself to subject you to all the details of my ordeal at Doc Holiday's office…some funny, some not so much. Surgery is scheduled for the 22nd. I'll be there, even after the uneasy experience of being forced to surrender my inalienable rights to sue. Those "please release me" from liability forms? No signature, no surgery.
So I signed page after page of "Release of Liability" paperwork in preparation for admittance to the hospital. I found it a quite depressing and scary experience; Steven King's imagery is "Poo Bear Goes To the Park" compared to the nightmarish Legalese on those release forms.
Holy fucking Fortuity, Batman, is it really necessary to spell out in graphic detail all of the things that's ever gone horribly wrong during simple "procedures." Where's my will and testament; I need to put my affairs in order. Dear God have mercy, the list is so exhaustive even Superman would bail. I thought for a while about keeping my hernia, spending the rest of my precious years sitting in a Lazy Boy. I could finally become a fat as Truman Copote serial novelist…or make and sell postcards out of all my photos...put a little note on back that says, "Made by a bedridden man with an inoperable hernia in Lovely Ouray."
Since reading and signing all those Release forms it will be a miracle if I wake up, and a double play miracle if I'n not a vegetable. I feel like crying; I want my mommy. Problem is, she died shortly after surgery for a broken hip…a broken hip!
You want information from terrorists? Make em read and sign hospital Release of Liability forms, and then threaten them with surgery!