The Best Elvis Song of All Time. Probably.

A remix from "Viva Elvis"....

I Cut My Finger and Just About Died

A couple of weeks ago, in a moment of lapsed judgment, I cut my index finger badly.  With my own knife.  While trying to remove a staple from a piece of paper.

A couple of days after that, I went to the doctor, since the finger hadn't stopped bleeding.  Or hurting.

While there, he suggested that I go ahead and do my PSA test, which I've been doing every three months since having prostate cancer last year.

A week later, he called with the results.  They were not good.

Now, this is the guy who saved my life by finding the cancer in the first place.  But it looks like every time I go to him for something else, he finds cancer.  I'm thinking about changing doctors.

Anyway...according to him, I shouldn't have any PSA readings at all since I no longer have the organ which produces the readings in the first place.  But I do, even though I don't.

Both indicators indicate that the cancer is back. 

And to think I thought the catheter would be the worst part of all this.  What an idiot.

So I called the Specialist in Alabama, who set me up with an appointment on October 21 for another PSA test and consultation.  He said, "If you're not overly concerned, I'd like to wait four weeks, do another test, then decide what we need to do next."

Concerned?  Me?

I'm looking forward to the October Surprise like a trip to the...oh wait, there's no comparison.

He suspects the first surgery either missed something or left something behind.  YOU THINK?

I already didn't feel the best;  now I feel worse.  I'm not a pessimist, though.

You know the definition of a pessimist?  Someone who feels bad when they feel good for fear they'll feel worse when they feel better.

Not me.  I'm an optimistic realist.

If I have cancer--again--I'm sure there's something they can do for it.  I'm sure it involves some sort of "procedure" (another word for YEEEOOOWWWW), "recovery" (an extension of the "procedure"), and, yes, a catheter.

I don't care at this point.  I just want to know what's going on, why it's going on, and what the doctor's going to do about it.

(Ever notice how medical professionals use the plural "we" when talking about what only "they" are going to do?  I've often wondered what my contribution to the "we" is, since I'm out cold during the entire process.)

So, that's it.  It may be back, it may not be.  Looks like it is.

I can't wait.

Talking About God--Or Not

My son and I were discussing spiritual things this morning when he told me about a blog he'd visited where the discussion about God went to...let's say, a different plane.

According to him, reading it sounded something like this:

BIGWORD BIGWORD, I sense that BIGWORD BIGWORD BIGWORD, and that the Scriptures BIGWORD BIGWORD, therefore BIGWORD BIGWORD BIGWORD.  BIGWORD GOD BIGWORD BIBLE BIGWORD SUNDAY and JESUS.

He thought his head would explode.  So did I.

He's tempted to post a question on this blog like this:

Did God mean what he said when he said it?  Was Jesus telling it straight when he said what he said?  Is ABCD really ABCD--or is it actually BCDE?  Is Elvis really alive? (the last one was my contribution)

My son had a coach who told them over and over again:  Keep It Simple, Stupid.

Of all the discussions we could have about God, wouldn't the same philosophy make sense?

Or do only those with BIG WORDS have the right--and obvious intelligence--to have this discussion?

I grew up in a country church, where Preacher Bill Coleman, a textile worker turned preacher, "preached the Word" every Sunday (even if he did buy some of his sermons).  He was a country preacher, using country words, to preach to country folks.

I miss that.

I won't miss the BIG WORDS once they're gone.  And gone they will be.

For I'm certain Heaven ain't got room enough for BIG WORDS.  Only a BIG GOD.

Elvis Saturday

I love this song...



I read that this was recorded around 3:30am the morning after the "Aloha" special.  The King ain't wearing his cape--or belt--because he threw them into the audience.

Some Stuff You Just Can't Make Up. Nor Would You Want To.

I don't always know what people are thinking, but I can sure tell when they're not.

I receive frequent emails from WSB Radio, and at the bottom of today's email was an ad for charity event called--and I am not making this up--"24 Hours Of Booty".

What would you think those twenty-four hours would entail (heh-heh)?  And what charity would benefit?

Lest you think I'm lying, here's the link:  http://www.24hoursofbooty.org/site/PageServer

It is a bike ride.  For cancer research. 

Okie Dokie.

For those of you with gutterbrains, if you scroll down to the bottom of the webpage, you'll also notice among the beneficiary organizations one called "Keep Pounding".

All right.

Somebody needs to get to the bottom of this, and soon.  Before people get the wrong impression.

Like I did.