Reflections about heroes, hookers, astronauts, dope fiends, crowned heads, musicians, painters, losers, winners, neck beards, hairless, magicians, dancers, models, scientists, winemakers, alcoholics, generous to a fault, downright stingy, actors, writers, fishermen, psychiatrists all of which I've known over the last 60+ years.
You can't make love to all the women in the world, but you owe it to yourself to try. Likewise, you can't taste every wine made, but you should try to taste every kind of wine, rather than staying with the one you like best. Go back to your faves but always try to find new ones.
Shortly after I began working in a large air-conditioned computer room, I began having chronic eye problems. The basic condition was either a stye or something very close to it. I finally had to go have it cut out at a spoecialized clinic. Anyone who has had eye surgery knows the toe-curling sensation the mere idea conjures up, so it was with much trepidation that I showed up at the clinic. It turned out to be a quick procedure performed by a charming female specialist. This was followed by a few weeks of having a black eye, but it healed up just fine.
Unfortunately, the thing came back a few years later and I scheduled an operation at a different clinic. The date was far off, and when it finally arrived, the stye had shunk considerably and gave all appearances of going away by itself. I arrived at the clinic, but was unable to see a doctor before the operation. Even though it's a procedure that only involves the head, I was prepped for the operating room with a cap, gown and those little funny paper shoes that make you feel like a turkey dressed for the oven. Appropriate because this place was very, very hot. They had a huge crowd and I was parked on a gurney for literally three hours while cases of various seriousness were wheeled around the "lot". In the meantime my wife was wondering if I had died on the table. Finally I was brought in tot he block where the doctor took a look and said "Too small, I can't cut this out." and it was over, I got dressed and walked out without being touched by a scalpel or other surgical instrument.
During those three hours, every single person near me had conditions that were obviously horribly painful, life-threatening and certainly some were fatal. Maybe one of them even died that day. Spending three hours on your back waiting your turn for surgery is something that makes you give thanks daily for good health. It reminds me of the Frank Capra movie "It's a Wonderful Life" where the Jimmy Stewart character gets to see alternative versions of lives.
Two weeks later, that clinic was closed after an outbreak of Legionnaire's disease after a contaminated water system was found. It never reopened. Am I lucky, or what?
