Oh, The Pain…

…Or How Peter Jennings Died For My Sins

Ol’ Pete Jennings is dead and I don’t feel too good myself.   Last night on the Countdown,
Keith Olbermann gave an extremely touching sendoff to the late ABC
anchorman.  Then at the end of the show, he launched into a
unusually self- revealing rant
about the dangers of tobacco.  Normally I snicker at such petty
attempts to influence me to live a healthier lifestyle.  But this
one was pretty poignant.  Keith revealed that he had a tumor
removed from his mouth last week and had been throwing up blood in the
aftermath.  His point was abundantly clear.  You don’t want
to be sitting around waiting to find out you have cancer, throwing up
blood, and quit smoking all the same week.

I can dig it Keith!  This actually has a minor bit of relevance to
my own situation right now.  Except for the Big C and throwing up
blood part.  To set up the story, let me just say I’ve been
watching too much Food Network programming.   I want to cook some cool stuff, but I resent the ubiquitous presence of Emeril in my life.  So I have been watching the evil leprechaun Bobby Flay’s
numerous programs.  He has like six damn shows on that
network.  Plus, he is concentrated evil.  So I downloads me
some rec-i-pies off the durn internet with which he has shown that
anybody with an opposable thumb can recreate.   Cut to Sunday
evening as I’m firing up the grill to make some sort of wings with too
many ingredients.  As I walk up the steps to the back porch I trip
and come crashing down onto the bricks trying to hold the up empty
plate and tongs from ruin.  Apparently when I collided with the
immovable object (porch), my right leg was full extended, and upon
impact my foot remained still.  Thus, my calf muscle snapped like
an over-tuned guitar string.  BOING!!!  After trying to heal
it through alternative, holistic, non-Western means (elevate the leg,
watch TV, drink liquor), I finally went to see some actual medical
personnel for this deal.  Apparently my non-traditional treatment
is perfectly acceptable as long as it is accompanied by
anti-inflammatories, painkillers, and a $30 co-pay.  Most
Excellent!  An unfortunate side effect of this treatment is being
bored to tears.  So I’m smoking a lot more.  Smoking for
boredom’s sake.  Then KO comes on TV to talk about Peter Jennings
taking the night train to the Big Adios.  The moment of clarity
comes.  I have to stop smoking immediately. 

The upshot is no, this isn’t as bad as having cancer and trying
to quit smoking.  But let’s add to the mix, the smoking, the torn
tendon in the calf, and busting up with my live-in girlfriend of two
years (as much as I’d like to blame Bobby Flay for that, I would like
to blame Contessa Brewer for it more) all at the same time.  I am going to be a cranky, cane-waving bastard for the foreseeable future. 

So no smokes, no walking without a cane, and no girlfriend.  It could be worse I could be one of these guys.