JUNE
2019
   LOG CABIN CHRONICLES    UPDATED
DAILY

John Mahoney's Asshat to Arhat Files: The Improbable Journey
John Mahoney
John Mahoney
spacer
is editor of the Log Cabin Chronicles.

His previous columns are archived HERE.

Posted 11.18.12
Cobden, Ontario

JOHN MAHONEY

"The doctor wants to see you..."

COBDEN, ONTARIO | This morning I weighed in at 164.5 lbs. -- a tad under what I weighed in December, 1953, when I completed Basic Infantry Combat Training at age 18 with Easy Company, 20th Infantry Regiment, in Fort Ord, California.

That's 55 lbs. less than I weighed at this time last year, and 40 lbs. less than seven months ago -- when I was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes.

And fatty liver, gallstones, and high blood pressure. I was considered obese. Plus, the examining nurse practitioner asked if I realized that I had a bulging epigastric hernia.

I've always maintained that you don't kick a man when he's down -- unless you can deliver a straight, clean shot to his cojones.

When the doctor called me to her office she didn't mince around - just a clean, quick shot where it hurt: "You have diabetes."

I should have known. At age 77, I had spent much of my life being a confirmed Asshat and now it was time to reap the harvest.

[Asshat: One whose head is so far up their rear end it could pass for a hat.]

  • I'd always fancied Irish whiskey, ice-cold vodka, good red wine. Lots of it, and often -- most every day, sometimes to wretched excess.

  • Sugar-glazed raised donuts, in boxes of six from the supermarket. Except when they had boxes containing a dozen. Nuked for 20 seconds so they would be warm and sticky, and eaten with a fork and knife. Sometimes I would eat a pair of them for a snack.

  • Bagels, well warmed in the toaster, then slathered with butter or cream cheese, or both. Loved peanut butter, laid on thick or spooned from the jar. Almost as much as I loved wedges of brie cheese -- big wedges.

  • Steak fat, pork chop fat -- loved it. Excuse me, are you going to eat your fat?

  • I relished drinks of maple syrup straight from the can, or spooning a lot of it of my high-value ice cream.

  • You know those boxes of dark chocolate mini-bottles filled with brandy that are everywhere at Christmas time? Last year we bought seven boxes for gifts. Instead, we ate most of them, and I gobbled down the large majority of those little killers.

  • Licorice All-Sorts have always been a favorite, and our local Bulk Barn is well-stocked. I often kept a container near my place at the dining spot, so I could cap off a meal with 3-4 pieces.

  • Don't get me started on bacon...
You get the idea: Not only an Asshat but a confirmed caloric Danny Dumpster, immune from all harm stemming from self-abuse.

After an episode in early January involving ice-cold vodka and a probable black-out resulting in a trip down the stairs, and further complicated by stabbing midriff pains and very sensitive stomach muscles, I dragged my sorry ass to the morning urgent care period at our local health centre.

I was thoroughly examined, blood was drawn, I had to pee in a cup.

A nurse called a couple of days later: "The doctor wants to see you today..."

NEXT: You have diabetes...

HOME   COLUMNS   FEATURES   FICTION   OPINION   POETRY   PHOTOGRAPHY