The State of My Affairs

The date? October 17^th, I answered without

hesitation (and I was right). And the year?

2018. I was right again.

The nurse practitioner nodded her head,

writing something down in her notes. That’s

the kind of test I like on any given day when

I happen to know the answers.

She was testing my cognition, my awareness

of place and time. Being of a certain advanced

age, it made sense that she would test my

mental faculties.

Any pain, she continued with her medical

evaluation? While I sit motionless in place,

about a 2 or 3. But, it’s about an 8, 9 or

10 when I’m standing and moving about.

(I figured that was normal considering the

arthritic condition in my hips.)

Do you smoke, and how many years? Yes,

longer that you’ve been alive. I’m fifty-two

she replied. Oh, yes, I said, longer than that.

Who is the President of the United States?

Damn it! Son of a bitch! Donald Trump!

And I’ll not come back to the VA again

until his picture is removed from this place,

I insisted.

That malignancy pisses me off far worse

than the crappy condition I happen to be in.

Chris Hanch 10-19-18