Wake up-It's Time for Your Sleeping Pill by Robert S. Swiatek - HTML preview

I am unsure, as to the identity of the father of my child as I was being sick out of a window when taken unexpectedly from behind. I can provide you with a list of names of men that I think were at the party if this helps.

I do not know the name of the father of my little girl. She was conceived at a party at 3600 Grand Avenue where I had unprotected sex with a man I met that night. I do remember that the sex was so good that I fainted. If you do manage to track down the father, can you send me his phone number? Thanks.

I don’t know the identity of the father of my daughter. He drives a BMW that now has a hole made by my stiletto in one of the door panels. Perhaps you can contact BMW service stations in this area and see if he’s had it replaced.

I have never had sex with a man. I am still a Virginian. I am awaiting a letter from the Pope confirming that my son’s conception was ejaculate and that he is the Saver risen again.
Perhaps CSI: DC could help her – it’s really close.

I cannot tell you the name of child A’s dad as he informs me that to do so would blow his cover and that would have cataclysmic implications for the economy. I am torn between doing right by you and right by the country. Please advise.
Maybe he’s in the administration. I don’t think he’s selling shoes.

Peter Smith is the father of child A. If you do catch up with him, can you ask him what he did with my AC / DC CDs? Child B who was also borned at the same time. Well, I don’t have clue.
I heard she changed her story a lot.

From the dates it seems that my daughter was conceived at Disney World; maybe it really is the Magic Kingdom.
I bet her partner was Houdini.

So much about that night is a blur. The only thing that I remember for sure is Delia Smith did a program about eggs earlier in the evening. If I had stayed in and watched more TV rather than going to the party at 146 Miller Drive, mine might have remained unfertilized.
It seems the yoke is on her.

I am unsure as to the identity of the father of my baby, after all, like when you eat a can of beans you can’t be sure which one made you fart.
I thought flatulence was a group thing rather than a single bean. Talk about bad analogies.

Someone sent the next set of tales from the medical profession along with the names of the doctors. I have left out the names of the physicians for a variety of reasons – they really add nothing to the story. From reading them, you may realize why you should avoid hospitals and doctors’ offices as much as possible.

A man ran into the ER yelling, “My wife’s going to have her baby in the cab!” I grabbed my stuff, rushed out to the cab, lifted the lady’s dress, and began to take off her underwear. Suddenly I noticed that there were several cabs – I was in the wrong one.

One day I had to be the bearer of bad news when I told a wife that her husband had died of a massive myocardial infarct. Not more than five minutes later, I heard her reporting to the rest of the family that he had died of a “massive internal fart.”

I was performing a complete physical, including the visual acuity test. I placed the patient twenty feet from the chart and began, “Cover your right eye with your hand.” He read the 20/20 line perfectly. “Now your left.” Again, a flawless read. “Now both,” I requested. There was silence. He couldn’t even read the large E on the top line. I turned and discovered he was doing exactly what I had asked; he was standing there with both his eyes covered. I was laughing too hard to finish the exam.

During a patient’s two-week follow-up appointment with his cardiologist, he informed me, his doctor, that he was having trouble with one of his medications. I asked, “Which one?”

“The patch. The nurse told me to put on a new one every six hours and now I’m running out of places to put it!” I had him quickly undress and discovered the man had over fifty patches on his body! Now, the instructions include removal of the old patch before applying a new one. I wonder if he considered looking for a place on his wife’s body.

While acquainting myself with a new elderly patient, I asked, “How long have you been bedridden?”
After a look of complete confusion she answered, “Why, not for about twenty years – when my husband was alive.”

I was caring for a woman and asked, “So how’s your breakfast this morning?”
“It’s very good, except for the Kentucky Jelly. I can’t seem to get used to the taste,” the patient replied. I asked to see the jelly and the woman produced a foil packet labeled “KY Jelly.”
A new, young MD doing his residency in OB was quite embarrassed performing female pelvic exams. To cover his embarrassment he had unconsciously formed a habit of whistling softly. The middle-aged lady upon whom he was performing this exam suddenly burst out laughing and further embarrassed him. He looked up from his work and sheepishly said, “I’m sorry. Was I tickling you?”
She replied, “No doctor, but you’re whistling, ‘I wish I was an Oscar Mayer wiener.’”
In this case the doctor didn’t supply his name. I wouldn’t have either.

Nurses and doctors have way too much paperwork. From reading some of the following actual writings from hospital charts, you should be convinced that most of them are overworked.

The patient refused autopsy. He thought it was an imposition.

 

The patient has no previous history of suicides. There’s a first time for everything.

 

Patient has left white blood cells at another hospital. He probably changed health care providers.

Note: patient here recovering from forehead cut. Patient became very angry when given an enema by mistake. Luckily, they took the knife away.

Patient has chest pain if she lies on her left side for over a year.
She should change hospitals.

Discharge status: Alive but without permission. This is one tough hospital. Please don’t send me there.

On the second day the knee was better, and on the third day it disappeared.
Fortunately, the patient didn’t have heart surgery.

The patient is tearful and crying constantly. She also appears to be depressed.
At least she still has her knee.

The patient has been depressed since she began seeing me in 1993.
Maybe the health care profession isn’t for him – he should try shipbuilding.

Healthy appearing, decrepit 69-year old male, mentally alert but forgetful.

Patient had waffles for breakfast and anorexia for lunch.
I wonder who does the cooking.

She is numb from her toes down. She may have to be amputated from the neck down.

While in ER, she was examined, x-rated and sent home.
Maybe the patient is related to Buck Naked.

The skin was moist and dry.

 

What did they expect after giving her dry ice to drink.

 

Occasional, constant, infrequent headaches. This seems to be an oxymoronic pleonasm.

 

Patient was alert and unresponsive. Bring some food and see if that makes a difference.

 

Rectal examination revealed a normal size thyroid. I wonder what they were treating.

She stated that she had been constipated for most of her life, until she got a divorce.
Don’t tell the drug companies about this breakthrough.

The lab test indicated abnormal lover function. Things should improve around Valentine’s Day.

I saw your patient today, who is still under our car for physical therapy.
Did he have a broken exhaust system?

Skin: somewhat pale but present. That’s a great sign.

Patient has two teenage children, but no other abnormalities.
What are the kids’ names – Cancer and Throb?

Examination of genitalia reveals that he is circus sized.
So that’s why all the nurses were hanging around the patient.

The following are notes written by parents for their children for some reason or other – mostly sickness.

Please excuse Gloria from Jim today? She is administrating.
Can’t she find anyone better than Jim?

Please excuse Lisa for being absent she was sick and I had her shot.
Lisa should have hid the bullets beforehand.

My son is under a doctor’s care and should not take PE today. Please execute him.
Won’t that prevent the school from getting government funding?

Dear school: Please ecsc’s John being absent on Jan. 28, 29, 30, 31, 32 and also 33.
What about the 34th and 35th? Now you know why they sent John to school.

Please excuse Roland from P.E. for a few days. Yesterday he fell out of a tree and misplaced his hip. He must have rolled out of the tree. Was he raking leaves? I hope he finds it soon.

John has been absent because he had two teeth taken out of his face.
He would have had a lot less pain if they were taken out of Neutron’s face.

Carlos was absent yesterday because he was playing football. He was hurt in the growing part. It won’t be growing for a while.

Megan could not come to school today because she has been bothered by very close veins.
I didn’t think senior citizens needed their parents to write excuses for them.

Please excuse Ray Friday from school. He has very loose vowels.
I don’t want to hear about his consonants. Can his friends hang around him?

Please excuse Pedro from being absent yesterday. He had (diahre, dyrea, direathe,) – oh nevermind that, the &%$#s.
He’s probably hanging around Ray too much.

Chris will not be in school cus he has an acre in his side.
That must be painful. I’m glad it’s him and not me.

Please excuse Tommy for being absent yesterday. He had diarrhea, and his boots leak.
In his case, it’s good to know about the boots.

Irving was absent yesterday because he missed his bust.
At least he won’t be spending any time in jail.

I kept Billie home because she had to go Christmas shopping because I don’t know what size she wear. Buy something she’ll grow into.

Please excuse Jennifer for missing school yesterday. We forgot to get the Sunday paper off the porch, and when we found it Monday, we thought it was Sunday. They’re lucky the dog didn’t eat the paper.

Sally won’t be in school a week from Friday. We have to attend her funeral.
What some people won’t do to get out of class. I hope they invited her teacher to the breakfast afterwards.

My daughter was absent yesterday because she was tired. She spent a weekend with the Marines.
It doesn’t sound like she was faithful.

Please excuse Jason for being absent yesterday. He had a cold and could not breed well.
She used the excuse about his being in a movie last week.

Please excuse Mary for being absent yesterday. She was in bed with gramps.
I thought he went to Florida with Grandma.

Gloria was absent yesterday as she was having a gangover.
Didn’t the Marines have another engagement?

Please excuse Brenda. She has been sick and under the doctor.
Someone said he needed more practice.

Maryann was absent December 11-16, because she had a fever, sore throat, headache and upset stomach. Her sister also was sick, fever and sore throat, her brother had a low grade fever and ached all over. I wasn’t the best either, sore throat and fever. There must be something going around, her father even got hot last night.
This explains the son’s bad marks and it sounds like this home needs a quarantine.

I really don’t care for bathroom humor even though I roared over George Carlin’s bit on defecation, especially the airline stuff. I thought about not including this, but then I got inspired and figured I had to relate what I went through with the medical profession. I will try to give the events that occurred some class. It’s a long tale of frustration, illogic and missing intelligence, so you may want to get a beer. Also, put on your boots – you are going to need them, as you will see.

The el toro crappo incident

In March 2006, I needed to get some routine medical testing done. There’s the blood work, urine test and one other part called hemoccult screening. From the title of that last test, I should have known that I was cursed. I got through the first two of three parts in the lab and took the kit home. It sounded like I had to assemble something, which I didn’t feel like doing.

Once I got to read over the material, I found that I had to fast from certain types of food before proceeding. I had plenty of food choices but I had to have a seventy-two hour period in which I did not eat red meat, fresh fruits or fresh vegetables. I also couldn’t have more than 250 mg of vitamin C. I made this discovery after breakfast on Tuesday and realized that I had to start counting from the previous evening’s dinner. This meant that I had the pleasure of capturing the required samples just before dinner on Thursday evening, which I did.

The next day – which if you are keeping track is Friday – I drove the precious stuff over to the lab but was informed that I needed three specimens. Since I followed my grasping in the toilet bowl shortly thereafter with ingesting some raw vegetables as well as swallowing 1000 mg of C, I figured I just might have to start over with my limited fast. I asked at the lab and was advised to call my family doctor, who had sent me to the lab in the first place. The vitamin C was fine, I was told, but the vegetables were a problem. I complained about the specific instructions I was given on a piece of paper, which did not request three helpings, but my complaints went for naught. However, I was informed that there was another option, something called “The ensure test.” I thought that was a liquid for old people.

I was told that the restrictions before this test were not as stringent as the triple trapping tryst, but I wondered why I wasn’t given that option originally. I was told to contact the lab, which I did, but they required a new script from my doctor. At this point, I felt like I was in the medical Twilight Zone, but nonetheless called the doctor’s office and asked them to fax over the script to the lab. This was after two in the afternoon and I gave them until three o’clock to get the material over. At three, I called the lab but they hadn’t gotten the fax yet. I asked Ecstasy – not her real name – how long she would be there and she mentioned 4:30 pm. I decided I needed a break and went out for a walk.

While getting some much needed exercise, I figured I had two choices: I could continue the triple specimen ensnarement or go for the ensure option and be sure. I also thought of a turd alternative. Instead of doing either test, which involved sitting on the throne, having a movement, fishing and who knows what else, why not just get a bucket, put some water into it and sit on it until the desired results ensue – that sounds similar to ensure, without the “r.” Of course, this procedure might take three days, which I thought might be an imposition. In any case, I had to cover the bucket with plastic wrap and drive it carefully over to the lab, telling them to help themselves and send whatever they didn’t want to my doctor. If they wanted more, they should let me know. I could make arrangements.

I also came up with another possibility. On the Ellicott Creek Trailway, I see plenty of dogs as well as numerous Canada Geese flying overhead. The dogs don’t fly. Each of these animals from time to time will leave souvenirs on the path – even though most people don’t desire these offerings. Why shouldn’t I use one of these droppings from those beautiful creatures of the country that borders on our north? This is something I really care to do. It can be accomplished by bringing along a plastic bag with some device to put a sample into that very bag and then the rest of the process can be finished at home. The other option is to bring the Ensure kit on my journey, do the capturing right there, finish the task – remembering to do the proper labeling – and then drop off the stamped enveloped into a nearby mailbox.

There could be a problem with this choice. It probably means I am not done with the Ensure requirement. Moreover, the lab or my doctor might mention to me that the test showed that I wasn’t an American citizen and that the results indicated that I had the unusual capability of being able to fly.

I didn’t choose the last few alternatives, though. When I returned home, there was a message from the doctor’s staff that I could pick up the kit at the office – it didn’t seem like they were going to fax any script for me. I thought about going to pick up this kit so I called the office to ask what time they closed. I got the answering service so I knew I’d have to wait until Monday. I did have another alternative since it wasn’t quite 4:30, so I called the lab. Unfortunately, I got their answering machine.

I realize that this is becoming an epic – by the way that is the name of some kind of health care drug program – but I warned you about the boots and I still haven’t done my duty. I did call the lab on Saturday but only got the answering machine again. However, I figured that all this stuff would have to wait.

On Monday, I called the lab and once again didn’t talk to anyone. I patiently waited through the endless diatribe on the machine and eventually was told that I had two messages – which I listened to. Eventually, I was told that the phone call was over. I submitted and called the doctor’s office and was told that the fax was never sent, as I figured and as I requested. I was told the office would be open until 5:30, so I drove over and picked up the Insure kit – I spelled it wrong before. Spellchecker missed it as well. The official name of this doodad – pun intended – is Fecal Immunochemical Test. I thought the acronym was certainly appropriate, in my case.

I can say this about the kit, the office was right. There were no food restrictions, the effort on my part would be much easier and the directions stated that eating fruits and vegetables could actually increase test accuracy. With the materials I got, I also found two paint brushes and figured it wouldn’t be as easy as I thought. Fortunately, no art was required and an addressed envelope with postage was included. Usually what I get in the mail is crap. A day later, I returned the favor and the lab got my present shortly thereafter. I tossed my trial run – no pun intended – into the trash. This whole incident only shows why some medical care people use the word “practice!”

One important thing for each of us is a living will. You may not want this one, but there are plenty of alternatives. Talk to your attorney.

A man and his wife were sitting in the living room and he said to her, “Just so you know, I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle. If that ever happens, just pull the plug.” His wife got up, unplugged the TV and threw out all of his beer.
9. That’s what the sign said

Signs can be found everywhere – along the highways, on products, on the back of a package of food, as well as at places of business. You can’t avoid them and some are really funny.

No long ago while on my way home, I passed the Buffalo International Airport and saw a sign on Genesee Street. It said, Low flying planes. It seems a bit redundant. We can’t blame the sign painters on this one – they were just doing their job. If I am walking in the area, should I duck my head?
Maybe someone should talk to the pilots.

While waiting in line at the bank that I have the privilege of using, I saw the following signs: Get excited about pumping gas, and Get excited about buying paper towels. I always felt that if you wanted intelligence, the last place you should look is at a bank. Is it me, or is the advertising world running out of ideas? I presented the clerk with a deposit slip with the amount that added up to the sum of the two twenties I handed her plus three small checks. She asked if I wanted it all put in, whatever that means. I should have said I wanted $20 back. I had to excuse her. She’s a blond!
I’m happy to report that these advertisements or whatever they were are gone. One person can make a difference.

I saw an ad for a reciprocating saw in the newspaper. Perhaps someone did this tool some harm.

There’s a sign in Williamsville near my house for the Main-Transit Fire Department.
It’s on neither Main Street nor Transit Road but rather on Sheridan Drive.

While driving on Maple in the town of Williamsville, I saw a sign on the back window of a van that said, duplicating consultants.
Aren’t there enough consultants already? Do they use a Xerox machine in this process?

On a trip down south during the fall of 2005, I saw the sign, Urgent message when flashing. On a trip a few years before that, it was flashing.
Maybe it wasn’t flashing this time because I told a lot less people about this trip. You’ll have to read my previous book, for seeing eye dogs only, to fully understand this.

I also saw a sign that said, Starbucks…open 24 hours.
You’ll be awake for twenty-four hours if you stop there too many times.

Pennsylvania has this sign: Buckle up next million miles.
But I wasn’t going that far.

In Maryland, one of the roads has an unusual name. It’s called the Sam Eig Highway. They must have run out of letters for the signs or at least there was a shortage of consonants. They should check with Vanna.
Why isn’t there a John Wilkes Booth Boulevard, Benedict Arnold Ally or a Lee Harvey Oswald Lane?

I saw this sign while I was logged on to the Internet. It said, Help her find her match.
Why, is she trying to light the barbecue?

You may see this ad in the future: Sign up for your free plutonium Visa Card.
I’m happy with my uranium card.

On many trips I have seen the sign, Local tourist information.
I didn’t think local people did the tourist thing in their home town.

I received a mailing from my credit card company that said, “Did you know that you’re free to choose what day your payment is due?”
I really wanted to call and tell them my choice was December 31, 2099. This is probably another example of “correspondunce.”

On my way into the supermarket I happened to see a vanity license plate that read, BORSOX. I assume it has to do with the Boston Red Sox and I think it is quite appropriate. Watching them or any other major league baseball team play can be just that – boring. Speaking of that team, there’s more in the chapter that follows.

I was driving on the road and a few cars in front of me, I saw a truck that had M. S. Carriers written on the back. I hope that’s not what I think it transports.
Think degrees, such as BS, MS, and PhD – Piled Higher and Deeper.

Perhaps this next observation should have been in Chapter 6. In fact it is related to that chapter title. I am sure you have seen the question, “What can Brown do for you?” As is all too obvious from the disaster in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, he didn’t do much and certainly not enough.

In most cases, you can’t tell a book by the cover. I do believe you can sell a book by the cover and I might add, the title. They can both make a difference. There is a book out entitled, How to Cook Everything, which I have no intention of buying.
I certainly have no desire to cook an old shoe, a telemarketer or an aardvark. But that’s me.

Grocery stores have ads that cause you to think as well. I saw an advertisement for shark steaks – wild caught. That’s reassuring. Now I know they didn’t get them from the zoo.

Another ad I saw mentioned something called sleeved lettuce.
In this case, I know a head is involved, but I didn’t think arms were.

I watched the movie Good Night, and Good Luck and thought it was inspiring, powerful and one of my favorite all time movies. Just before the flick began, I saw the rating for it, which I really don’t recall but I saw that the movie had mild thematic elements. According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, “thematic” refers to the topic of discourse or melodic subject. As far as I can tell, every movie has a subject and certainly music will be present – I see no reason to throw out those three words while rating it. Perhaps this “thematic” thing has varying degrees, just like salsa – mild, medium and hot. I guess the last designation applies to movies made in South America.

The rating also mentioned brief language. Before seeing the production, I figured that those words meant that there would be a great deal of discussion about underwear or else there would be all one-syllable words. After viewing the Clooney work, I saw neither undergarments or discussion of same, nor discourse that utilized simple words.

A friend and I headed over for lunch after he went through a colonoscopy. We walked in the door and waited to be seated but wound up standing around. Finally, we selected a table and sat down. My companion really didn’t want to be standing at this point – if you’ve had this procedure, you know what I mean. A hostess came by and told us that we couldn’t sit at that table and directed us to another section. After looking over the menu, it was apparent that it was limited, lunch wise. I’m sure the restaurant had a single allpurpose menu, rather than a separate one for dinner.

We decided on what to order and I handed the waitress a discount coupon for a free lunch. However, she said that it was invalid since we ordered dinner entrees. I don’t know about you, but I think the difference between lunch and dinner has to do with the time you eat as opposed to what you eat. It was no big deal as eventually I used an En