CELL PHONE NOISE
“Mr. on the Dead? This is Medicine calling!”
“We will be getting very well acquainted over the next few months!”
“I am calling with some test results for you.”
I haven’t taken any medical tests recently.
“We performed them without your consent!”
Are you allowed to do that?
“This is Florida, Mr. on the Dead! All is permitted!”
What test are you talking about?
“Do you recall last month when the doctor traipsed about in your doody-garden?”
I remember having a colonsocopy.
“That is what I said! The doctor tip-toed through your poo-lips!”
“Well, the doctor became bored by your colon. He called it ‘pedestrian,’ Mr. on the Dead.”
“So he took himself a trip into your Ileum. Just like Achilles!”
“Oh, I do love classical references.”
We all do. Can you get to the point, please?
“Absolutely! I have some good news and some bad news. Let’s play a fun game! I will give you the good news, and you try to guess what the bad news is.”
I don’t think I wanna play this game.
“It is too late! I have suited up!”
Jesus, I gotta get better insurance.
“Are you ready for some wonderful information?”
“You know all that quarantine weight you have gained? It is going to fly right off!”
“Oh! I have another boon tiding for you! You no longer need to be anxious about getting your hair cut!”
“Can’t cut what fell out!”
I am starting not to like this good news at all.
“Yes, I may have misapplied the adjective ‘good’ to the news. It is not truly good. But the bad news is horrible! Have you guessed it?”
Please just tell me what the test results were.
“Oh, but guessing is so much more fun. I will give you a hint: What you have rhymes with ‘prancer.'”
“And ‘cancer!’ No, wait. It does not rhyme with ‘cancer.’ It is cancer.”
THIS IS HOW YOU TELL ME?
“Do not yell at me for trying to inject a bit of levity into these trying times, Mr. on the Dead.”
I have cancer?
“Just a little bit!”
What does that mean?
“More than none, but less than all. You know how some poor folks are riddled with cancer? That is not you! But there are others who are free of cancer. That is also not you!”
“Hey! Stop that! You must be positive! You have cancer, not can’tcer.”
What the fuck did you just say?
“Do not blame me, Mr. on the Dead! You thought up that awful joke in the car this afternoon.”
Can’t argue with you on that one.
“No, you cannot! Why were you in the car? I hope it was not to buy green bananas! You might not see that fruit to fruition!”
What? You said it was just a little bit of cancer!
“And John Kennedy had just a little bit of lead in his skull! Some substances are very dangerous even in small quantities!”
Okay, okay, okay. What do I actually have?
“I may be pronouncing that incorrectly. I have trouble with medical terms!”
Uh-huh. Did you mean ‘small intestine lymphoma?’
“Let’s go with that!”
PANICKED IDIOT GOOGLING IN A PANIC NOISE
This is not terrible. I mean: It’s fucking terrible, but it could be worse. 86% survival rate. If it’s early enough, they can just chop a chunk of my gut out. I might not even need chemo or radiation.
“You are not that lucky!”
I want to stop talking to you.
“That is impossible! We will be getting so familiar in the coming months!”
“Before I go, Mr. on the Dead, I have one last question.”
“Have you pooped out a watch? The doctor cannot find his Rolex.”
I’m gonna hang up the phone.
“Do it carefully! You are fragile now!”
DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT