A Not So O+ Experience

So, for the past few years (and I don't really know how many) I've had this "dot" on my upper lip. I never noticed when it arrived, and I never paid much attention to it--except, of course, that it provided me some mystic connection to Cindy Crawford.

Cindy, if you're reading this, please join me for a Diet Pepsi.

Early this week. The "dot" began to hurt a little. Nothing serious, but it was letting me know it was there. I guess "sting" might be a better term than hurt. On Wednesday morning, my last swipe of the Good News razor was over the "dot". And then . . .

I began to bleed. This was nothing like simple shaving cut bleeding. No sir, this was a letting for the ages.

I was in a hotel near Knoxville. First, I reached for the Kleenexes. Tissue placed, pressure applied, peeked at it a minute later, repeated steps 1 and 2. This little waltz o' the reddening tissues went on for many minutes. Then, I ran out of Kleenex and graduated to wash cloths . . . hand towels . . . bath towels . . . bed linens . . .

It looked like a horror movie went off in there!

I finally got the bleeding to stop, but I was pretty dizzy. My next stop was K-mart for a large pack of Band-aids.

Next morning, following another fateful last swipe, I slapped a Band-aid over the gusher. One thousand one . . . one thousand two . . . one thousand--the bandage was soaked through!!

No wonder the Red Cross keeps calling me about donating, I've got enough for everyone (and it's O+)!

One friend suggested I pack Krazy Glue. "It's exactly what surgeons use," he explained. Yeah, if your surgeon happens to be the Unibomber. Maybe I also oughta learn how to rip out the matress springs and suture up a wound Rambo style. For now though it's a regimen of Band-aids and Neosporin. Wonder how much longer before I clot a little better? I hope this improves soon because the triple antibiotic ointment is really spicy and makes me hallucinate.

17 years since . . .

Yesterday/today is the 17th anniversary of Hurricane Hugo's overnight landfall near McClellanville, SC. At the time, it was the worst storm to ever strike the United States. Of course, we've had Andrew and Katrina since then.

Hugo, though, remains my lone hurricane experience.

For all the college buddies who evacuated Charleston for the "safe havens" of Sumter, Columbia, Rock Hill, or even Charlotte, you must remember this storm, because you might have had equal or worse experiences thatnsome folks who stayed in the Low Country.

2 memories mark that experience for me--well three.

1. I got really mad at my mom because she refused to let me sleep upstairs during the storm. So instead I slept downstairs next to a huge window with no maternal challenge to this choice. Hmm . . . now I'm beginning to wonder. Seems I may have more to blog about than I thought.

2. During the storm, I woke up and noticed some light outside. It was my dad wandering around with a flashlight. I guess he wasn't going to fall for the old "sleep by the window" trick.

3. After the storm, I saw Channel 5's iconic anchor Bill Sharpe at a gas station in St. George. His hair was a mess and he needed a shave real bad. He was a walking understatement of what everyone had been through. We exchanged understanding glances--tips of the cap, if you will, to having more in common than we'd ever dreamed of.

There are the many images we all share in our memories, too, I bet. The Ben Sawyer Bridge twisted and left sideways at a 45 degree angle comes to mind. Don't forget the hole in the steeple of Lightsey Chapel, the beached shrimp boats, and the uprooted 500 year old oak trees. Each picture probably bears a ton of metaphor.

Folks from Katrina's path are still recovering. We share a common, dark heritage with them as well, and so we'll continue to offer our sisters and brothers our prayers and help, because we've been there, too.

This Monday night, the Saints will return to the SuperDome. Win or lose, I hope it will be a great sign of hope to many of our hurri-kin who experienced so much loss. Grab your black and gold umbrella and join the parade! May there be more "marchin' in" to come!

Good Sports Weekend (sort of)

I enjoyed my weekend. Friday night, we went out to Turner Field for the Braves game. It was a lot of fun except that the Braves lost. I did get to see Dontrelle Willis pitch. Sorry, Atlanta loyalists, but I'm a big fan of the D-train.

In further news from Turner Field, the girls with the T-shirt gun finally fired in my direction. I've been trying to get their attention for months. I'm glad you noticed me. I wish you would have noticed I needed an XL. Yes, I'm a choosy beggar.

OK, one more story from the Braves game. We were watching batting practice and watching the kids who gather at the outfield wall and beg for baseballs. Every now and then a player turned around and tossed a ball to a kid. On one of these occasions, a player was clearly throwing a ball to a boy in the stands when an "adult" reached in front of the kid and caught, nay, took the ball away from its rightful recipient. This guy then walked away and gave the ball to his own son. Two observations:
A. You stink, mister, stealing a ball from a kid.
B. Which kid was really the unfortunate one, the boy who had his fun stolen or the child who has a dad doing everything for him? Perhaps only their future spouses will tell for sure.

Saturday, it was off to Midtown Atlanta for college football. On this bright and sunny day, Georgia Tech beat Troy 35-20. The only drawback was the impressive sunshine from which there was very little shade. A new hat turned out not to be my only souvenir. As a friend at church the next day noted chuckling, "I can see your
sunglasses mark."

Yes, I am still temporarily marked with the sign of a good couple days off!