This Moment in Time

There was a day long ago when I thought

myself an entrepreneur. I abandoned my

company for a woman. I thought myself

a lover then. It turned out I was neither,

having lost my business and the woman

as well. Another time, I fancied myself as

an artist and a writer. And so, like many of

that kind, I took up drinking, but wound

up in a constant stupor, sleeping off hang-

overs instead. How I managed to come out

of that alive is still a puzzlement to me. Oh,

the diminished days, and nights of despair,

the missing links to memory, the wastelands

of loneliness and misery. Over time with

therapy and treatment, eventually I recov-

ered and became a sober participant re-

entering society. I did what I needed to do in

order to make my way. And today, quite a long

distance removed from my youth and the errs

of yesterday, I find myself retired and disabled

in my old age. I write about that, and quite a

price I paid for the mistakes I made. Some of

it was serious as a deathbed tragedy, I’ll admit.

And now that I am alive to tell the story, some

of it was, I must say, a foolhardy comedy.

Had things turned out differently, likelihood

is, at this moment in time, you would not be

hearing a bloody word from the likes of me.

                          -30-

Chris Hanch 2-22-2020

Small Talk

The nurse from the VA who came to my apartment

and examined me made small talk as she poked and

probed, took vital signs and recorded the results. So,

what did you do for a living when you were still

working, she asked me?

Oh, it’s a long story, I told her, so many things. I did

factory work. I was in sales, purchasing and advertising.

You know, lots of different things. Mostly though, I am

an artist and writer. I...I...I…stammering to collect my

thoughts as I tried to explain.

So much, so many things, it’s hard to say. An artist

and writer, she repeated the best of what I had said

previously. Perhaps to narrow my list of duties and

positions in the past, I should have painted my per-

sonal endeavors with a much broader brush.

Pursuant to that, I could have said, mostly I played king

of my own domain; some days I was the supreme ruler

of all I surveyed. At times, I was benevolent and magnan-

omous; now and then, I was a god, righteous and judge-

mental, you know, Burn in hell! Off with their heads!

I didn’t want to intimate of frighten the poor thing.

She was just trying to make her work and mine a bit

more palatable at the time. Blood pressure, 126 over

90. Not too bad, I said to her. I added nurse to my list

that day. I favour the artist and writer though. I’ll carry

those preferred experiences with me to the grave.

                                 -30-

Chris Hanch 2-22-2020

Word

When I’m alone and in pain, I tend to swear a lot.

It’s okay, I tell myself, generally no one is around

to hear. And, for me at least, it helps a little bit.

My dogs understand a few commands, but seem

oblivious to the cuss words I use, until the other

day as I yelled, Shit!, when hobbling into the living

room. And my older dog sat as if by command. No,

No, I said, Shit, not sit! And in looking around on the

carpet, I saw my pup did that too. Picking up the mess

with a paper towel caused pain and I groaned, Damn

it! And the little fellow came up to me. No, No, I said

again, your name is, Apollo, not Damn it! I now see

why cursing gets a bad wrap. I try my best to use Damn

it more often now; Shit, not so much even though it hurts

like a Son-of-a-bitch when I have to bend over. Apollo puts

his tail between his legs when I say S.O.B. (He knows from

where he comes.) Instead of profanity, I tried using, Good

Boy, once. I found it didn’t help the pain all that much.

                                 -30-

Chris Hanch 2-21-2020

The Visiting Nurse

This was a new nurse from the VA visiting with me. And

at the get-go I informed her, I don’t know what you may
have been told by the last nurse who was taking care of
me, however, I think you should hear it directly from me.
I need hip surgery, but I’d rather endure the pain. No in-
invasive operations for me.

And see that DNR order on the fridge. No life saving
measures either should they be needed to revive me.
As far as I’m concerned, you’re here only to meet the
requirements for me to keep receiving my meds. Simple
as that, no hospitals and nursing homes for me. Seems
that happens all too often with others including my dad
and brother before they died.

I smoke about ten cigarettes a day. Don’t drink alcohol
anymore. Probably be dead by now if I did. Besides, I
need to be able to care of my dogs.

I’m seventy-three and have no desire to live into my
eighties or nineties with the onset of more maladies
and demented loss of memory. And that about sums
it up for me. Otherwise, as I see it, leave me be, and
may I rest in peace.

After the temperature and pulse rate were taken, after
the blood pressure was checked, standing and sitting,
after the cold end of the stethoscope was pressed to my
chest, the abdomen, and run up, down and around the
back, (now take a deep breath), after the feet and toes
were probed with latex-gloved fingers, the nurse penned
in the results on her report.

All is pretty good, the nurse told the me in an emotion-
less professional tone. Looks as if you’ll live another day.
No offense intended, I told her in an unabashed moment
of candor, but hellfire, even without all this fuss, I could
have told you that.

                                 -30-

Chris Hanch 2-21-2020

More About Change

There were times when some grand ideas

crossed my mind. And when those didn’t

come to pass, I considered what I might

change about the world within me? I can-

not afford to buy change, cannot mold my

body into behaving the way I wish it could

be. So then, what options are left for me?

Accept things the way they are, I suppose.

Fools will remain fools; gravity and time

shall continue their immovable ways. My

chronic arthritic pain will certainly not

abate. Don’t re-elect that incompetent,

hateful president, I admonish the pundit’s

commentary on TV. Democracy and the

Constitution as we have known it for the

past few centuries are doomed for sure.

And here I sit, the old dog no longer able or

willing to learn new tricks. The world and I

are screwed for sure. Mass shootings will

continue to plague society; war and terror

as a constant threat shall remain. Crumbling

infrastructure and climate change shall increase

at an alarming pace as Congress sits idly by.

What a woeful disgrace! As for me personally,

I can neither reverse my deteriorating capabil-

ities nor allay the rapid progression of old age.

What’s a pathetic and depressed pessimist such

as I supposed to do? I hobble on my cane into

the bedroom and open the top drawer of the

dresser. Should I, dare I even consider…?

What the hell...I reach for it anyway, and change

into the last clean t-shirt left to my name. What

were you thinking, dear reader? Perhaps tomor-

row, just maybe, I ‘ll muster the will and energy

that it takes to do a load of laundry. Change…

such a laborious undertaking these days. We’ll

have to wait and see how things go.

                          -30-

Chris Hanch 2-20-2020

Cell Phone Disease

There are some days the phone never rings

and on those days I consider myself one lucky

son-of-a-bitch. I have one of those flip phones

I carry around in my pocket, although I have

heard the waves it transmits and receives can

cause cancer when constantly exposed to the

body. At my age and in my current waning phys-

ical state, sooner than later something is bound

to get the best of me. Anyway, last evening

the phone rang about 5 o’clock. At that hour I

figured it was my son who is on his way home

from work about then. I answered because I

always enjoy chatting with him to find out

how his day went. And he listens well when I

tell him about mine. Fine, I tell him, my hip’s

been a pain, but I managed to get some writing

done. Five or ten minutes is all we need for we

touch base about the same time every day. Next

morning while watching some political crap on

MSNBC, the phone rings and on the caller ID

it shows RESTRICTED. I know it’s a call from my

visiting nurse at the VA. It’s time for a routinely

scheduled visit. Sure, Thursday at 11:00. I’ll see

you then. I can deal with the two minutes that

takes, cordialities included. A bit later, ring tone

again. This time an 800 number. With those I

know what to expect, but answer it anyway…

Hello, I begin. Is the head of the household

speaking? Who is this, I reply? I’m Blah, Blah,

So-and-so with the Fraternal Order of Police...

I expected something of the sort, so I cut his spiel

short with, Not interested, as I quickly closed the

phone. Some days are just that way, I tell myself.

And each time I answer that damn thing, I wonder

if old age or cancer will get me first? I can see

myself eventually making the call...911, What is

your emergency? Lady, I’ve got this lump on my

right hip. I believe it likely has to be cancer from

my cell phone. I have a hard time walking too,

but that could just be my arthritis.

                               -30-

Chris Hanch 2-19-2020

Something About Change

I may just spend a whole day sitting in place.

I’m almost seventy-three and no one would

miss me anyway. Who in hell would even care?

But then, one might say, you could, if you would,

go out and inspect the world around, you know,

just to keep your eyes on things. I do appreciate

your concern, but I am confident the world at

large can well manage its nefarious and philan-

thropic deeds without me. After all, it has been

spinning around way before I arrived. Chances

are it will continue long after the likes of you and

me are gone. For now, this day in the life of me,

I have seen just about all I need to see. Oceans

wave, mountains rise, rain forests rain, deserts

continue to bake, blow and dry. Blue skies turn

turn cloudy and gray without me. Famine, war

and peace will see-saw up and down, puzzle

pieces will be inserted into place, vehicular

meyhem shall clog arterial ways. What’s one

whole day, anyway? Perhaps I’ll take a week off,

who knows a month, a year sitting here in place?

And when the paramedics come to cart me away,

with my dying breath I’ll look at them askance and

with great surprise ask, Didn’t a Walgreen’s used

to be on that corner over there? My how things

have changed since I last engaged. By the way,

does Amazon Prime still deliver orders the next

day? Damn! I hadn’t noticed how long my toenails

have grown. You wouldn’t happen to have a smoke on

you, would you? I really should get out more, you know.

                                -30-

Chris Hanch 2-18-2020