So begins Day 1

It's not exactly The Passion of Christ, but this blog isn't exactly The Bible, either.

Thursday will be a momentous day for Me, CherkyB. A day that was 22 years in the coming. A day that's has been put off a long as it could be, and now will wait no longer.

That's right. Thursday I'm going in for a physical. An actual physical, not a "Hi Doc, I'm sick. Can you write me some scripts and send me on my way?" This is a day when a doctor who I have never met will poke and prod me in unimaginable ways looking for hidden deficiencies and then will use any findings as an excuse to preach to me about changing my ways and leading a more pure lifestyle.

It's like my honeymoon all over again.

Now, in what would be considered a classic "bait-n-switch" routine if I were buying a car and would have attorneys general salivating to shut down the scammers, the office let me make an appointment with very little fanfare. I just had to wait about 7 weeks. Then, the next day, the lady called back:

Dr.'s office lady: "Oh, we forgot to ask you for you home address. We need to send you a letter explaining what you should expect at your physical."

I expect to get poked and prodded in unimaginable ways, and then to get preached at. I need a letter for this?

A couple days later, I got the letter. It said little to nothing about what to expect at the physical. Instead, it was chock full of little gems of things I must do in order to be allowed to have the physical. Like bringing all my medications in with me in a single, quart-sized ziploc baggie (or some such). OK. Arrive a little early to fill out paperwork. OK.

"Fast for 24 hours prior to your physical."

Whaaaa?

"Water is OK. No foods or liquids other than water."

I used to be Catholic. I think this means I can still eat fish.

"No illegal drugs or alcohol for three days prior to your physical."

OK, now wait just a goddamned minute there. What exactly are you going to be doing to me that requires me to abstain from alcohol for three days prior? It's a physical. Hell, I've had surgeries with general anesthetic that don't have this many rules associated with them.

"If you find this inconvenient, we can arrange to have your blood work done at a different time."

Like there's ever a convenient time to fast for 24 hours and abstain from illegal drugs and alcohol for three whole days. Let me see. Hmmm. No. No. Oh, not that week. Oh, here it is. How about after I'm dead! Well, so anyways, my appointment is at 1:45 on Thursday. So that means I'm partway through my first day.

I came home from work today and, as if on cue, there was the newest edition of Modern Drunkard, hot off the presses, sitting on the kitchen counter. It's always a treat when it arrives, as they publish "about" six times a year, but it's an operation run by a bunch of drunkards, so their punctuality isn't always top notch.

I tore off the plastic wrap and began perusing the heady prose, quickly finding myself engrossed in the lifestyle. Then HannahC and The Mrs. started fighting in the kitchen cuz HannahC wanted to help with dinner, and The Mrs. wanted her to get the hell out of the kitchen. So I chipped in:

Me, CherkyB: "Why don't you get the drinks? Run to the garage and grab me a beer. One of the ones in the box on the top shelf that says 90 Shilling."

HannahC: "OK, Dah."

The Mrs.: "And get me a Diet Coke."

HannahC: "OK."

Situation defused. Back to my reading.

Sitting at the dinner table drinking the old beer, I am about to say to the lovely The Mrs., "It's 4 days before my physical, so today's my last chance to have a beers," when I suddenly stopped. Hmmmm. Damn. Lunch was my last chance to have a beers, and I spent it at Raising Caine's with Rico and Bozzetto eating chicken fingers.

Oh well. Close enough.