This has nothing that relates to the article. I just liked the view.
Hayter
article for May 31, 2020
“Tales
from the Backside”
My heart used to sink whenever a
few of my high school seniors proudly informed me that they planned to major in
psychology. Even though at the time I didn’t see much of a need for psychologists,
I tried to sound encouraging… unless they went on to say that they planned to
minor in philosophy.
Let us flash forward. If I had it to
do over, I would consider getting a degree in psychology. I think I can safely say
that there has never been a greater demand for psychologists than there is now.
-- Beg pardon? Yes, psychiatrists even more so. They’re the ones who can
prescribe drugs, aren’t they?
You would have to agree that I am
one of the most mentally stable persons I know. I’m cool, calm, and kind. I’ve
even been told that, at times, I displayed a hint of patience. Unfortunately,
that hasn’t happened recently. I am at my rope’s end, and there is no room to
tie a knot and hang on.
Don’t say anything to Kay, but she
is beginning to bug me. She’s not as nice and understanding as she used to be.
I don’t know the last time she tactfully asked me something. -- “Darling, would
you please pick up the peanuts around your chair?” I used to get a lot of that
stuff. Polite and cordial. I deal with that, But now I get, “Sweetheart, would
you mind awfully finding just one item you came home with that was actually on
the shopping list?”
What do you do with a comment like
that? Any other husband would’ve unloaded. Not, Mark Atticus Hayter. I always
go with the truth. “Sweetpea, I lost your list and my mask while searching for
the perfect watermelon in a bin that could’ve held a pod of orcas.”
Along with Kay’s mood change, I’m
finding it difficult to trust myself in decision making. In fact, let me just
tell you upfront, were I you, I would suspend making any big decision until
after this whole pandemic thing is behind us. I’ve been thinking about us
selling both our cars that have 31 years between them, and buying a 2020 model
of something good. That would enable us to acquire a monthly car payment beyond
that which Teacher Retirement could even supplement. Fortunately, Kay threw a
hissy fit over my idea.
So, my advice, don’t make any big
purchases. Don’t plan on a move to Alaska, or buying a new home somewhere west
of town. Stay completely away from Amazon. Whatever you do, do not buy a couple
of rottweilers, unless you have a herd of bovine you can feed ‘em.
I’ll have you know that at this
moment there are three boxed, high-quality toilet seats in this house. I didn’t
intend to buy them but the thought hit while I was passing by the toilet
aisle. The seats that came with the
house are touted as being “easy to take off”. They are. They’ll even take off
while you’re sitting on ‘em. It never bothered me because I know how to slide
‘em back on. It was our guests who started complaining. I figured I could
either replace the toilet seats or stop inviting people over. I decided to stop
inviting people over.
However, while in Home Depot I had a
change of heart. I’m glad that Dad was not alive to find out that his number
three son paid $120 for three toilet seats. He would’ve “come up-glued.” He
liked that old adage. Regardless, sometime between now and the Fourth of July
2023, I’ll have those seats mounted. I mean installed. It was a frivolous buy,
but I’ve put it behind me.
Another thing sending me to the edge
is my health. It’s shot. Kay edited out the part about my hemorrhoids, so I’m
going with the kidney stones. I’ve passed more stones than kids in a clod
fight. Last weekend was my most recent attack. All I had to work with were the eight
pain pills that my doctor prescribed back in ‘06. They were weak as all get
out. The “fast care” places recommended I go to the emergency room. I preferred
having Kay just kill me.
I never did pass that stone, but
after standing on my head a few times, it moved to a less painful locale. I
feared it was too large to pass, so I ended up getting a CT scan along with an
appointment with my urologist. Low and behold, the doctor could find no stone
in either kidney. He said my kidneys were in better shape than he had ever seen
‘em. I couldn’t believe it. I don’t believe it. While he was still looking at
the computer screen, I pointed out an odd-shaped object and jokingly asked if
it was related to the topic Kay doesn’t want me to mention.
The doc told me that my CT scan
wouldn’t have picked that up. That’s what he called it. “That.” I ended up
sharing that experience with Brad Meyer, but only because he was foolish enough
to ask how I was doing. After I told him of my discussion with my urologist, he
suggested I write an article about it and title it “Tales from the Backside.”
And that, my faithful reader, is
what I’m talking about. Events are pushing me closer and closer to a session
with a psychologist. The only thing keeping me from going now is my fear of
getting an appointment with one of my ex-students. After telling her my
problems, I have every confidence that she will recommend I see a psychiatrist.
end
hayter.mark@gmail.com
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