Thursday, November 29, 2012

Horror to Romance in Five Words

As some of you may know, on October 29 a tonic-clonic seizure, while driving, had me sailing into oncoming traffic as I flopped and twitched my way across the center line. I have epilepsy. The car, a newly procured 2008 Saturn Aura with less that 40,000 miles on it, was "totaled." Fortunately, I hit a very large white truck. That's all I remember after a brief moment of consciousness before being taken to a hospital. Well, the truck and the air bag that prevented my getting a flat face and "inny" nose, like a belly button.

So I can kiss my driver's license goodbye for at least six months, which seems fair. I could have killed someone, or worse yet a dog or cat. The smack to my kisser, and the severity of the seizure, had me in a fog for three days. When the fog lifted, I realized what I had done and understood what had happened. I've had 5 grand mal seizures in my entire life (usually in public places, for optimal embarrassment), and now, one while driving. While driving. The odds of that seemed astronomical before it happened. Now that it happened I feel like a big, fat fool for ever driving at all. And my neurologist tells me that those little seizures I have 3 or 4 times a week are equally dangerous while driving.

Back to the bus and subway for me, and my feet. Ain't no thing. Take it on the heel and toe, fatty.

I read the shortest horror story the other day, I found it clever. It goes like this...

The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock at the door.

I feel, with a little tweaking, it makes a good romance story...

The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock at the door. They lived happily ever after.

No good? Eh.


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