Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Procedures With A Southern Touch [Exclusive]

While lying on the “procedure table” at the hospital getting wired up for being proceeded on the nurse figured out I was some kind of foreigner. She asked where I was from and I kindly replied Alabama. She said my accent gave it away. No kidding! I wanted to explain to her that I was on some sort of foreign exchange program but I didn’t think she would understand. But she did throw me a loop when she said I had come a long way for the procedure. Huh? I explained that my bed currently lies in Ohio and I really hadn’t traveled far, at least that morning I hadn’t. Now I will say that hospital had a very nice crew. And when they put that eye vee thing in me it didn’t feel like they were trying to shove a drinking straw in my arm like it did at another hospital up here. So we kindly chatted away as I continued my role as ambassador of Southern ways and such.

Everyone at the place had on those nametags which quickly gave away the location as not being in the South. You didn’t see people with those two letter names such as J. R., J. L., W. L. and such. Why I even know some fine gentlemen known as R. C. (not the drink) and A. B. You see, in the South that is a level of recognition to have your name shortened to the simplest form. For most today there is a name that lies behind those letters such as James Ray or William Lyle. But one Southern tradition lay with only providing the simple form. My granddaddy’s name was Cletus V. Now the V. didn’t really have any other form. It was just V. Since the doctor thinks I need to return for another round on that procedure table I think I will dub everyone with their initial type name just because most people there had the air of Southern hospitality.

One thing I did notice was the admission crew had you sign in and gave you one of those electronic drink holding things that flash when your dinner is ready. They told me it would start making a racket when it came my time to sign up for the procedure. Now isn’t that ironic. Its ten o’clock in the morning, I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since eight the night before, my stomach is growling like a dog, and they want to give me something to remind me of an ice cold drink. I guess it’s much better than shouting out “Billy Bob, you’re up next for the slice is right!” No, my name isn’t Billy Bob. I just know you people assumed that name for 90% of us Southerners.

Well, it’s off to the office. I gotta keep those machines churning. Just remember, when that little gadget flashes it ain’t always the best thing for you.