Chapter Two...Taking My Lumps

When we last left off I was ignoring the warning signs that my body was giving me. I’ve never been one to heed warning signs anyway. I’m the type of guy who would eat Pop Rocks and drink Coke even though I know that is one of the deadliest combinations known to man. I know it’s true because I read it on the internet.

So I was living relatively pain free, unless you count watching a few episodes of American Idol, until one day I was sitting on the floor of my apartment organizing my CD’s by alphabetical order by artist, then by year, then by how many tracks were on the CD…I’m anal that way. I rolled onto my back to reach for some CD’s and it hit me again. This time the pain was so intense I actually talked to Elvis. What a weird conversation that was. It went a little something like this…

Elvis said, “Hey there buddy. If ya pass me that chocolate donut and a bottle of Formula 44D, I’ll buy you a Cadillac.”

I replied, “OOOOWWWWWWW!!! MY ASS IS KILLING ME!!!”

Elvis then said, “Thankyaveramuch.”

I told you it was weird. After Elvis left the building, I went to the bathroom and finally mustered up the courage to check my butt. I wasn’t embarrassed this time. After all, searing pain tends to make a person forget modesty. Also, I was alone at my place and I’ve done far more embarrassing things there by myself. (Hey, that inflatable doll wasn’t mine. Someone left it there.)

It was the moment of truth, or some cliché like that. I felt around down there and my world stopped spinning. I felt a lump. I’ll say it again so it really hits home. I…felt…a…lump.

For the third time in my life I was scared. The first time was when I was a little kid and went to go see the movie “E.T.” (that toad faced critter messed me up good), the second time was when I had to face the fact that my Grandma June was sick and dying (I don’t think I’ll ever get over that), and this third time was definitely a charm.

The next few days were a morbid haze. My thoughts were consumed with this little lumpy menace sitting on my tailbone harassing me. Sometimes it felt like this monster was controlling me by throwing itself into conversations. When folks would say ‘hi’ I’d reply with, “Have a nice lump…I mean ‘day’.”

After a few more days of self-torture I finally decided to call the doctor. And in I went…

-B
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