Tuesday, June 16, 2009

OK, This Is Not Funny Anymore.

What the hell is going on?

The last 24 hours have been very tough. I think God is trying to test me. Again. I know I'm not the only person with troubles, but it seems like I'm on a game show––Let's Make Him Squeal! Some of you will read this and say, "how you didn't tell me?!?!" Because I'm trying to sort it out myself. It started with Travis being rushed to the hospital––"Dad, I'm at the Fire Station across from my work. They're taking me to the hospital because I feel like I'm having a heart attack."––and me running out of a client meeting, around my office and through the streets of DC like a madman. I got there so fast, they didn't even have Travis listed at the front desk. (He's home, after an EKG, x-rays, two blood tests and oxygen. But we still have a Dr appointment tomorrow morning).

This morning, I took Teresa to have skin cancer removed from one of two spots on her face. They had to cut her twice, as the first part of her surgery didn't get all the cancer so they had to go back in. Next Tuesday, we do it all over again as she has one spot removed just below her left eye. She's tough. But it hurts me to my soul to see her in pain. Give it to me. I can handle that. Hell, they've cut me so many times and stuck so many needles in me the last two years that it ain't no thing. And work is EXPLODING, with so many things happening at once. It's a good thing I don't drink––well, at least not heavily––or I'd be into a bottle of Maker's Mark right about now.

Right now, I wish cancer was something I could hit. 'Cause I'd beat the shit out of it until my hands hurt. Or until it was dead. I'm past being tired of hearing the word cancer. I'm just out and out pissed. My Irish-Mexican temper/passion is flowing at an all-time high. I haven't been this pissed since I was beating the carp of my best friend on the playground at Holy Trinity in 8th Grade. I got so mad, because Bengie had a splint on his finger and he took a swing at me. Cut me on the side of my face. I went ballistic. I was so mad I temporarily blacked out, coming to as I was on top of him slamming his body into the playground floor, with 3 guys trying to pull me off of him. It was right then and there I realized I needed to control my emotions and temper. I would be dead today if I hadn't controlled it through the years. Yes, it's a scary thing to write about and admit. But I'm in a much better place these days. Except when it comes to cancer.

I have to stop writing now. I'm getting all worked up and I need to keep my wits about me and take care of my Son and Wife. This is serious business. And not funny at all. I think I'll watch some George Carlin.

Now that's funny.

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