She was kissing me and it was full of passion. I felt the earth shake and thought that this had never happened before. Then she started licking my face! When she began to whimper, I opened my eyes and came out of my dream. I found the room shaking, HARD.

Bohdi, my 75 pound Staffordshire Terrier was in my face licking it and crying. He was shaking like a leaf and the rumbling was still going on. It struck me that we were having an earthquake and then I remember......This is Oklahoma! Thoughts filled my head that the building might be coming down around our ears.

I heard my daughter yell and rushed out as the rumbling and shaking subsided. Her eyes were as big as saucers as she looked at me and in total amazement said, "OH MY GOD."

Bohdi found his bravery, unusual for him, and rushed to the window and started growling ferociously. I thought about the earthquakes we had been in when we lived in Japan and while we lived in California and realized it was the strongest quake I had ever experienced.

Being half asleep, it dawned on me that I needed to make a check on the important items! I glanced in the room and my wife was still asleep. My daughter was freaked out, but other wise fine. The dog was really freaked out, but hey, he gets scared of crickets.

I rushed to the kitchen and to my relief noticed the coffee pot was still on and it had not spilled a drop! Whew......close call, but the coffee survived.

Turning on the TV and the computer, I quickly learned that we had an earthquake. I felt like it was a big "DUH," but remembered that we lived in Oklahoma. If it were California or Japan, it would have been an "eh." Similar to how we treat tornadoes. "Yeah....another tornado honey. Grab the coffee pot and we can have breakfast in the basement."

I looked outside and several of my neighbors were freaking out. One was looking for the car that had hit his house. Others were looking for the propane explosion. I yelled out the window, "It was an earthquake." Which got a response of, "Earthquake? This is Oklahoma. We don't get earth quakes!"

I looked over on Facebook and my Oklahoma friends were freaking out as well as my neighbors., just not as anomated or amusing.

So, I have followed this all day and it turns out that the USGS posted it as a 4.3 earthquake, while the OKGS posted it as a 5.1. The university had sustained some damage and only a few people were hurt. Yet, the quake had been felt across 4 states. Either way, it is one of the biggest to hit Oklahoma.

But the good news is that everyone is alright, the dog has finally settled down and I still have my coffee.

Being as bored as could be, I did what a lot of guys do. I slowly slid my hand into.......

*RINGGGG* Phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hi Mom."

"Yes...I am fine. You?"

"That's good.

"Okay....Be safe on your drive to church. Bye."

Where was I? Oh.....I slide my hand in slowly. It feels so good.

*RINGGGG* Damn phone.

"Hello?"

"Yes dear."

"Yes dear."

"Love you too. Bye."

Uhhh....Oh yeah...I slide my hand in slowly. Gee this feels good. I think I should oil it up. I squeeze it gently.

*RINGGG, RINGGG* I wonder if the phone would bounce well?

"What?"

"Did you ask your Mom?"

"Well, what did she say?"

"Ask Dad? What if I told you to ask Mom?"

"Oh....I did? Okay.....go ahead and go, but don't be out too late."

"Love you too. Bye."

Crap.....what was I do.....Oh yeah. I slide my hand in again. It is so soft and comfortable. Love this feeling. I think about oil again.....Nawww.....I will do the oil thing later.

*RINGGGG* Screw this.

I slide my hand out of my ball glove, grab the ball and head for the door.

*RINGGG*

"Come on Bohdi. I will toss the ball and you can fetch."

This was my entry for A. Mac's and Sara G.'s contest, before trimming it down:

http://immaginedigitalimag.newsvine.com/_news/2010/03/08/3906151-sara-g-a-mac-showcase-newsvine-authors-at-their-best-our-first-group-of-winners?last=1268104722&threadId=809322&sp=0&pc=25#last_1

You should seriously check out the articles on that link. Some are great......and there is this one:

The picture for inspiration is here:

http://immaginedigitalimag.newsvine.com/_news/2010/02/14/3871187-a-labor-of-love-we-hope-so-and-what-better-day-than-valentines-day-to-present-sara-g-a-macs-authors-competition

Thank you A. Mac for such a wonderful picture. Thank you Sara and A. Mac for thsi writing opportunity.

My Story:

It was our first vacation in ten years and we were on our third night on the boat. It was late, the water was calm and the lights gently reflected off the water in the bay where we were anchored. My wife poured herself another margarita as I sipped on mine. We had already finished three pitchers and were both just the other side of tipsy. I had already spilled a glass on the deck and my wife had laughed and called it alcohol abuse.

I watched my beautiful bride of 15 years, in her bright pink bikini. She was wearing a swim suit that would be a felony to wear in some countries (and three states), as she slugged a big gulp down and got this mischievous look in her eyes. Setting her glass down, she then reached behind her back and I watched as her top fell to the deck. Her eyes were twinkling with intent and her mouth was in a grin that spoke volumes. She lightly bites the corner of her lower lip. Then, she slowly slid her hands down her sides and hooked her fingers into the edges of her bikini bottoms and slipped them off.

The bikini had already gotten my attention - did I mention it would have been considered a felony in some countries and a few states? The twinkle in her eyes had double it and now her intentions had given me some of my own. Not wasting time, I stood, set my glass down and undid the buttons of my short pants (I wasn’t wearing a shirt or underwear) and let them drop to my ankles.

I had just started wondering why we had not taken more vacations, if this was how they play out, when suddenly, before my pants even hit the deck, there was a flash of fur that skittered past my leg. Needless to say, being two and a half sheets to the wind, I jumped and bumped open the cabinet holding the emergency inflatable raft. It started rolling across the deck.

Genghis Khan, my wife’s Jack Russell quickly snatched her top, turned and ran towards me. “Get him!” My wife yelled, “That’s a $100 bikini!”

Still being off balance, full of margarita’s and pants around my ankles; I made the mistake of trying to run after him.

I tripped and did a belly flop straight onto the wood deck. This was followed by my glass of Margarita tipping over the edge and pouring over my head.

Khan ran past me as I grabbed at the fur bag and missed. I heard my wife yell some obscenity at the over energized pouch and turned my head in her direction. I saw my wife’s legs jumping over my head as she went after our lovable, but too playful dog. I turned my head in time to see her hit the spot where I had dropped my drink earlier. Here was my wife, naked as a jay bird legs running in reverse and losing ground as her legs went up in the air. She went flying. Her bare butt hit the deck, but she just kept sliding. I found myself thinking that Margaritas make good lubricant as my wife slipped over the edge of the boat straight into the water!

Khan ran towards her and the top (being half a felony, would that make it a misdemeanor?) it got hooked in the emergency life raft. Khan did not go too far. The top stretched out and yanked Khan back in the opposite direction. The look on his face was humorous as he shot past my head and over the edge into the water! It was like Road Runner and Willy E. Coyote scene come to life. The dog had actually hung there in mid-air for a second before falling straight down.

The life raft jumped to life as it inflated and started pushing me back. I figured I was the next one who was going in and I jumped to my feet, yanked off my shorts and escaped the inevitable.

My eyes searched the dark surface for signs of the dog or my wife when I finally saw she was trying to get to Khan. I quickly leaped over the side and started swimming towards the two of them. If skinny dipping was what my wife had in mind, I somehow doubt it was planned to to turn out this way.

It was at this time that I noticed several boats heading towards us! Then it dawned on me that the emergency raft had an automatic emergency beacon. So, there we were, naked as jay birds, ships bearing down on us and no time or chance to get back on board.

Next vacation......the dog stays home.

What do you write when you seem to be missing the humor that usually gets you writing a humorous article. For months I have been lacking and some have even commented that I have turned serious. Hmmm......I guess my Dark Half is showing.

I try to keep him in a box, but sometimes he over powers the "good humor" guy and things start to take a more serious tone.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, damn it! Get back in your box biocth!"

I actually am forcing myself to write this. It isn't flowing and my fingers, for once, can actually keep up with my thoughts - how weird. My fingers are usually fumbling across the keys, with stiff knuckles and one finger that permanently is "asleep," trying to type out what is coming to mind. My four finger hunt and peck method is slow, but generally gets the words out in some type of symbolancse Symbellace order.

Still, my creative bug has some how found someone's roach motel. I just have to find a way to get him out from the sticky interior of the box.

"Have any nail polish? Nail polish works well."

"I told you to get back in the box. Don't make me pull this article over and whup your butt!"

At times, it is easier to just skip the writing and allow others to be creative. Perhaps my "bug" is just sleeping it off. I wonder what party he went to and if that party would allow me to join. With my recent luck, they would probably be a party of strangers and not invite me.

So, I digress as I struggle with what to write. Should I tell about the snake that went up my cousin pants leg? The Raccoon that woke me up when he jumped on my chest? Maybe about the time I was up a tree and it got cut down. There is always the time that I ran a hundred dash stripping my clothes off as I ran. Some how that last one wasn't too funny.

I am full of stories that could come out, but what do I do to them to make them special for you the reader. In many cases, it is a situation where you had to be there. So, the story isn't the problem. It is getting you there and tickling your funny bone when you arrive. Not an easy task for such discerning readers as you are.

Perhaps the problem is the weather. Maybe it is the fact that all three of our vehicles broke down.....on the same day....within two hours. Maybe it is all of the VA and Social Security paper work I have had to fill out. Speaking of which, why do I get the feeling that when they said "Sex" I should have said "YES!"?

Maybe it has just been the lack of sleep and the constant pain. Don't worry, I have lived with it for over twenty years, but I can wish.

After the vehicle problems we had an ice storm that broke two the vehicles we had just fixed.

Hiccups. Live is full of them, but we manage and go forward. So, I write and wonder where my muse is. Where did the bug go and how do I trap the little bugger. Have to be careful in this. I would want to harm the little fellow.

So, why am I writing this? Soosalah suggested I do. It sounded like an idea and I ran with it. Does it help? Who knows, but just maybe. Thanks Soosalah.

BTW! PLEASE don't tell my wife, she is full of ideas of what I should do!!! I wouldn't want her to get the wrong idea.......

After retiring from the USAF, I worked for a few years and then returned to college. I wasn't an ordinary student. Most students belonged to organizations such as Sigma Delta Pi, I belonged to the PTA.

The year had been a tough one. My sister had lost her home in the May 3rd, 1999 tornado that devastated Oklahoma City, my father was diagnosed as having liver cancer and I was carrying a full college load while working. December rolled around and when finals week reared its ugly head, I was notified that my Father only had days.

I had already finished some of my finals, but in two classes I had to take "i's" (incomplete) to go to my father who was 200 miles away. I loaded the family up and left.

Our Christmas tree was up, but we took the few gifts we had and put them in the car. Christmas was less then a week away, but Dad's funeral was the day before Christmas Eve. I was devastated, but tried to be strong for my siblings, my mother and my children. Even my wife was extremely upset at my Father's passing. He had been a good man to all of us.

I spent the days bringing things together and making arrangements for the funeral. Many of the items had been done by my Uncles, but I did many others myself. I found a Military Color Guard and managed to get them to come and honor my Father who had served for 21 years in the USAF. My wife and I bought a family wreath and we helped to pick out a head stone. I wrote a eulogy and gave it before the funeral to my father's church.

Preparing for a funeral is not what most do during this time year. Yet, Christmas shopping seemed to be minor for us. We did sneak away for a short time and purchased our children a Nintendo game system. We all knew Christmas would be sparse that year.

After the funeral, we stayed with my mother and helped her around the house taking care of things that Dad had not managed to finish. We spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with her so that she would not be alone. My younger sister and her Family, my brother and my older Sister and her family all stayed through Christmas. Then we went home late Christmas Day.

Driving home in the dark I was very somber. My Children had not had a very good Christmas. We had spent much of our Christmas money on the trip and the funeral. They had lost their only living grandfather and I had lost my father. It was a four hour trip of deep sorrow and regret.

Finally, we arrived home and as I parked the car, I noticed the front door was wide open. I asked my wife if she had any idea why it would be open and she didn't. I got out and slowly walked to the door. I looked in and all the lights were off. I opened the storm door and called for the dogs. They all came running.

The fact the dogs were alright and knowing that Austin would have attacked anyone he did not know within the house (which had done before) lead me to believe it was alright to enter. I walked in and keeping Austin by my side, I walked through the house. I checked the bedrooms first, then the kitchen and finally the living room.

When I hit the switch for the living room the Christmas tree lights came on and I was stunned.

Sitting under and around the tree was numerous gifts all wrapped up. I was amazed. We had taken all of the gifts we had with us.

I walked over to them and checked the tags. They were all address in typewritten tags that had my children's names on them. A few were to my wife and a few were to me.

Need less to say, I was stunned. I stood up and walked outside to my family and told them it was all clear. Then, I told them they all needed to go to the living room.

When we walked in, I noticed a white envelope that I had missed earlier. Opening it, it read:

Years ago, I heard that you had played Santa to a child in your town whose parents were going through a hard time. You bought them toys and left them Christmas Night on her family's porch.

You signed the letter Santa and never told anyone.

Having heard of the problems you had this Christmas, I needed to do this. Sorry, I broke in.

Love,

Santa

I remembered having done what the letter accused me of. It was several years earlier before I was married. Yet, I had not told anyone except for a friend who had died the following year.

To this day I have no idea who broke in and left all the gifts. I have no idea who knew about my gift giving that Christmas Night so long ago or why they felt I should be repaid. The gifts helped my children to have a better Christmas and is a gift of love that I will never forget.

Perhaps there is a Santa Clause. Perhaps he lives in each of us.

MY CHRISTMAS POEM

Twas two days before Christmas,

And I gather the gifts,

I had to wrap all,

And I had to move quick.

I grabbed all the tape,

The boxes and bows,

Ran to my room,

But then stubbed my toe.

I yelped and hopped,

And jumped down the hall,

I only fell once,

But that was not small!

As I jumped to my feet,

The ribbon got caught,

And it got all tangled,

Around my knees in a knot!

I fought for my balance,

But let go of the bows,

They sprinkled about,

Just like they were snow!

As I lunged forward,

The paper then fell,

The Scotch tape unrolled,

And I thought, "What the hell?"

I bounced off the wall,

And then I did slip,

The tape started sticking,

And next thing I flipped!

I fell in the paper,

The ribbon and bows,

The tape made it stick,

And a Bow hit my nose!

I twisted in pain,

And rolled on my back,

Next thing I knew,

I was wrapped like a sack!

I waited until,

My wife found me there,

Wrapped all in paper,

And bows in my hair!

She gently unwrapped me,

Then gave me a kiss,

Then quickly told me,

I was her greatest gift!

My ego was saved,

And this I declare,

Next year it's Pro-wrappers,

Get my business I swear!

Merry Christmas Everyone! I hope you enjoyed my poem.

This is my entry for this Scott Butki Challenge.

"RITA!" I yelled. Yet, I knew Rita could not hear me. Only other plants can hear a rose screaming, but I had to try.

The tile was cold as ice and I felt it numbing my pedals. I didn't mind. The cold actually made the itching of my pedals feel better.

"RITA! Get your pen thingy. Hurry!" I cried.

Rita was already barely breathing and now she had gone down on all fours and was crawling.

"My God, she isn't going to make it." I thought as I watched her collapse to the tile.

Now, she laid there next to me and was turning blue.

"Damn bee!" I screamed at the bug lying on the floor. "You didn't have to sting her."

I laid there watching, unable to do anything as the life seeped out of her. A darkness came over her as her breathing became shallow.

I had spent my whole life growing in hopes of being given to a lover by a lover. My brother wanted to be part of a center piece, but I had higher hopes. This was not something I had ever wanted to be a part of. What flower in their right mind - and I am not talking about Mum's, because we all know they are never in their right mind - would want to be a witness to a murder.

I suddenly saw a shadow at the door and my hopes began to build as the door slowly opened.

"You?" I thought. The very reason I was in this situation was standing at the door.

He had met Rita when she had given him a parking ticket. In return he had thanked her and asked her out for tea. Rita had fallen for him, because he was nice and accepted the fact that he was wrong.

She went out with him that evening and this morning he had placed me at her door.

He looked down and saw her lying there. She slowly lifted her arm toward him and then her arm fell back to the cold tile.

Without a word he started yanking open drawers and looking. He moved quickly from one drawer to the next and then stopped and looked around the room. I knew what he was looking for.

He rushed to the other side of the room and yanked open the closet door. He stepped inside. I heard him rustle around a bit. Then he rushed out and came up to me and Rita.

Kneeling down he took her hand and spoke.

"Rita, I am so sorry that I had to do this." He said and held up her pink copy of the ticket she had given him.

"Remember the man who died of a heart attack yesterday? I did that job and you were the only one who can place me there." He stuffed the pink copy into his pocket and held the Epy pen thingy up as if to show her. Then he laid it just out of her reach.

"Getting that bee into that flower was very difficult. Yet, after that dance you did last night to avoid that bee and then your disclosure of the allergy...well, let's say you left me with the perfect solution."

This is my entry for Scott's Random Words Writing Challenge:

http://sbutki.newsvine.com/_news/2009/09/15/3274026-random-words-exercise-septoct-2009

The elderly man lying in front of me sucked on his oxygen and then pulled the mask aside as his eyes turned in my direction.

"Albert Einstein, Max. Albert Einstein." He said in a horse, but hushed voice.

He had been like this for days. I guess, as he drew near the end he was suffering from dementia. Still, I hated to see my grandfather so discombobulated, but I refused to let him be alone as the end drew near.

"Max, write it down my boy. You must write it down." He said. His face was more serious then I had ever seen it. Yet, it was tinged with a touch of obnoxious pain.

Pulling out the list I had started days before hand, I added it to the list.

"Read it back." He softly said.

"The whole list?" I asked. His eyes widened and he nodded as if his entire life depended on what was written.

"George Carlin, Barbara Walters, Eddie Murphy and Albert Einstein." I read out loud.

"What about the quotes?" He asked. He seemed almost ecstatic that I had gotten all of the names right. So, I continued reading. "Friends are like roses…you have to watch out for the pricks. Author unknown." I said.

"Excellent, my boy. That is what you tell the man in the picture." Grandpa Chester replied.

"What man in what picture?" It was same question I had asked several times over the past few days.

"Watch the video. But remember, he will reply with, 'In the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. John Lennon and Paul McCartney.'"

"What video is that, Grandpa?"

"You have all the answers in the list, Max."

"Splendid. Sometimes talking to you is like talking to an Ouija board." I thought to myself. But they were words I would never say out loud. Not to Chester.

"What about the other two quotes, Grandpa?" I asked, but my Grandfather had fallen off to sleep even with the beeping of the heart monitor next to his bed.

I walked into the next room to take a break and noticed the video cabinet that was next to the TV. I opened it in hopes of finding something I could watch while Chester slept.

There were only three videos in the huge case and I found it funny that my Grandfather would be so extravagant as to buy a cabinet that would easily hold one-hundred tapes and then only use it for three.

As I picked up the first one, the title caught my eye. "George Carlin – Scuttlebutt, What the….." I read out loud.

I grabbed the next one and read it, "Eddie Murphy – Glock."

The next one said, "Barbara Walters – Ecstatic."

I looked around the cabinet, wondering why there was no tape of Albert Einstein with some random word behind his name.

I had no idea of what they could mean or even if I was supposed to watch them all. Yet, I figured that would.

I turned on the VCR and TV and slide the tape into place. I had always wondered why Grandpa had never gotten a DVD machine or DVR and wondered if these tapes might have had something to do with it.

Soon, I saw Eddie Murphy doing a routine and I turned up the volume. I could here a strange sound in the background of the tape. As I listened it became clearer and was over powering the comedian's stage act. I realized that it was a music note and from my days in a band, I was quickly able to tell it was an E-flat.

Suddenly, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. As I turned to my left, I saw that a panel on the wall had opened.

Behind the panel was a key pad that was made up of alphabetical digits.

I grew more intrigued and it dawned on me that Chester may not have been as senile as I had first thought. Yet, there were so many unknowns about everything that still did not make sense. What about the man, what about the list and what was the key pad for?

I wondered why the title had included the word "Glock" and after some thought I went to the key pad and punched in G. L. O. C. K. Above the and to the right of the keypad was a row of three darkened lights. The middle one turned green.

I quickly removed the second tape and inserted the Barbara Walters tape. It was similar, but sounded like it was B-Flat. The first position of the three lights turned red. When I punched in the word Ecstatic it flashed to a green. The third tape was a musical note G and the word Scuttlebutt turned the red light green.

I heard a click and a second panel opened. There inside were two small boxes.

I removed the box and carried it into my Granddad's room. He was laying there awake and when he saw what I had in my hand he smiled.

"Max, you must first finish the list." He said in a serious tone. I pulled out the list and waited with pen in hand.

"Write this quote. It is by Martin Luther King. 'I submit to you that if a man has not discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live.' When he says this you must respond with this quote by Albert Einstein. 'Only one who devotes himself to a cause with his whole strength and soul can be a true master. For this reason mastery demands all of a person.' You have that?"

"Yes sir."

"Now open the cherry red wood box first."

I slowly pulled the lid up and saw an odd three dimensional picture. I reached in and my finger went into the photo. I jerked back as if I had been bite. It had tingled at first and then felt as if it were pulling on my whole arm.

I looked inside and the picture looked liked a white haired man in a white coat.

I started to ask him what was going on when I heard a noise behind me. Turning, I saw a man in a long white coat. His hair was even whiter. I dropped the boxes and they clattered to the ground.

"Who…"

"The quote Max, say the quote!" Grandpa yelled.

I looked at my old grandfather and then back at the man. I mumbled the quote and the man responded with the other. Then he gave me the last quote my grandfather had given me and I responded with what my grandpa had told me to.

He reached out his hand as if to handshake and I reciprocated. As he shook my hand he held out a device that looked like a remote control. I took it and then he handed me a VCR tape with the title "Albert Einstein – Dimensions."

"Play the tape. When you hear the musical note D, come back and press the Aux button, then the input button, and then the number 777." The white haired stranger said.

I did as he asked. When I hit the button there was a bright light and a doorway appeared. The man in white helped grandpa out of the bed and helped him through. As he stood there he said, "Your grandfather has many years left. Come and join us in my dimension."

This is part three of my story of what happened to me. Part one and two are important to the whole story and I would ask tat you read those first. Thank you.

Part one maybe found here:

http://bad4.newsvine.com/_news/2009/07/28/3082118-when-government-heath-care-almost-killed-mepart-one

Part Two maybe found here:

http://bad4.newsvine.com/_news/2009/07/29/3084543-when-government-health-care-almost-killed-mepart-two

After six weeks in the hospital, I was given six months of convalescent leave. I was still approximately 50 lbs below what I had weighed when I first went to the sick call.

My mother spent everyday stuffing me with great food (she was pushing cheese cake the whole time) and I managed to gain 20 lbs during that time and returned to duty at lbs. Still 30 lbs below what I had weighed prior to the incident.

At follow up appointments, I was told that my appendix scare had rolled around and blocked off my intestine. The Doctor who had done the surgery told me that the doctor who had done the appendectomy had tied it off wrong and over time it had caused the problem. I told him that it had been done b an Air Force surgeon and he looked as if I had thrown cold water on him.

Later, I had another doctor tell me that appendix scares can do that anyway and that the surgery had nothing to do with it. Of course, I am smart enough to figure out that one doctor was trying to show that Civilian Doctors made mistake too. It is also possible the other Doctor who told me that it just happens was tying to defend the profession.

Rarely has any doctor heard the whole story. Most cut me off and begin to justify what happened. Yet, I have had two doctors that heard it all and hey told me that it was malpractice and inexcusable.

You see, the incident that I had just gone through was not the end of what happened.

Within a few months of returning to duty, I began to have blood in my stools again. I was also having occasions of nausea. I reported back to my surgeon and they ran several tests. I was tested for Crohn's and Ulcerative Colitis, but the tests came back negative.

The Doctor told me that he wanted to see every other month until the bleeding stopped. So, I made another appointment to see him. The problem was that he got short PCS (permanent change of station) orders and had left in between. When I got to the hospital clinic, I was told that I could not be seen without a referral from a normal doctor.

I made an appointment with one, but before the date came up, I started having the same problems again. Large amounts of blood in my stool and not being able to hold anything down.

I started going to the ER. One day they would give me Malanta and the next they would give me Donitol. This continue for fourteen days straight an I was never placed on quarters, so I had to continue to try to work while I was going through this. On the fourteenth day of going to the ER, the doctor tried to give me a mix of both medications and I threw up all over him.

That was enough to get me admitted and to see the surgeon. They did emergency surgery and this time instead of a resection, they bypassed the blockage that was described in the surgery report as a hard woody fibrous tumor.

The idea was that they would allow me to get better and then go back in and resect the bowel and remove the tumor. The Surgeon explained that it was probably due to the prior years surgery. They left me open and each day used a water pick to spray the opening. It was to help over come the infection that had set in. The problem was that I started closing up.

This led the doctors to decide to go ahead and close up the wound and to try to wait until I was much better. They explained to me that it was not a good thing to have so many surgeries in such a short time.

I was taken to the operating room and stripped naked. It was disconcerting for me to lay there naked in front of the whole OR team. They draped me and I heard the doctor come in. The next thing I heard was a loud "CHUNCK" sound nd my gut felt as if I had stabbed. I jumped and it dawned on the doctor that no one had given me any pain killers or even numbed the area.

Needless to say, I eventually was released from the hospital and followed by the doctor. I had several test runs over and over again. All of which turned up negative.

At one of those test, a barium enema, I was in for more of a surprise.

First, they had me lay on a table and then the uncovered my naked butt. Then they brought 20 people into the room to watch. They explained that they were medical students as if that makes you feel better about having your butt hanging out in front of a room full of people. I mean it wasn't as if I worked for "Chip N Dales."

Next, they inserted the tube, started the barium and the machine broke down. The next thing I know, I am waddling down the hall with this tube up my bum and twenty medical students gathered around me in a circle. Yeah.......Go ahead a laugh. Even I have to admit that the sight was probably hilarious. Besides, I laugh at that one too.

Eventually, I received orders and went to a new base. When I got there, I checked in with the surgeon as I had been told to do. This led to me being sent to a USAF Major Medical Center. They ran numerous tests and all of them turned up negative. However, they did find some ulcers.

Apparently, the surgeon had not sewn off the partially blocked area and I was getting a build up of bacteria from a back wash into that area.

I was sent back to my base and they waited for over another year to complete undo and fix the surgery. By the time the surgery was done, I had numerous ulcers in my small ad large bowel, had developed anemia and had developed chronic diarrhea with blood in my stools.

At some point, they added a pathology report from the surgery that showed I had developed Crohn's and another one that showed I had Ulcerative Colitis. These were found seven years later. Yet, in the mean time, I suffered from bloody diarrhea, stomach pain, weakness, and tiredness. I spent years going to the doctors and complaining about it, but the never did anything about it until the draw down started. At that time, the military medical community tried to identify as many people as possible that could be medically retired or discharged and I got caught.

When this happened, I did a ton a research and found out more about some of the things that had happened.

In the final surgery, they had found that one of my testicle cords had been accidentally cut and had been floating free inside of me. Just to name one. The Doctor had described me as being "messed up" inside. The surgery had taken three times as long as it was supposed to. I lost substantial portions of my intestines (all of the terminal ileum, part of my mid ileum, my ileo sphincter, and portions of my large bowel).

After they discovered the report that showed that I had Crohn's and the other one that showed that I had UC, they started treatment on me. Since then, I have had a lung collapse from a fistula that developed under my abdomen, had multiple infections from fistulas and six more surgeries. I suffer from B-12, calcium, and iron deficiency. I have developed arthritis ( a cousin to Crohn's) in my knees and hands.

I have been on most every medication for IBD and none of them have been able to fully control the disease.

At the urging of several friends, the health care debates and in a hope that this might help someone, I am finally telling the story of what I went through. It is a true story, very long and covers many issues that maybe pertinent to the current health care debates. I will not say it is or isn't. I have seen government run health care and I have seen private run health care, both have problems and some advantages. I will let you decide.

Please forgive me for its length. It covers many, many years and has many details that are pertinent to the story.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As a child growing up, I was taught that Doctor's were great men that I should look up to.

It was reinforced at a young age (about 4) when I had an accident and tore my tear duct. The Doctor managed to save my eye sight and (from what I understand) created the first surgery to repair and place the tear duct back.

Eventually, this pedestal that Doctors had been placed on was ripped away in the worse way.

At the age of 19, I was still my Father dependent and going to military Doctors. So, when my appendix became inflamed, I had emergency surgery to have it removed. There were some problems and I became infected and spent about a week in the hospital on antibiotics.

A few years after this, I joined the USAF and after training ended up at an ATC (Air Training Command) base. As an Airmen, I was constantly mistaken as a student. Students that were new to the Air Force did not get the same privileges as permanent party.

I was in good shape. I ran each day and did other exercises, I was on the squadron softball team (I was actually a player/coach), I was on a bowling league, played flag football and did many other things with the people in our barracks. I felt as if I had made several friends and we were never lacking for things to do. At the very least, we would go to the Airmen's club, hang out, play pool or just dance and party.

The day before my nightmare started, was like most Sundays. I had softball practice followed by a bunch of us going to the club for the two for one steak night. After dinner we met in the club and had several beers dancing and pool games.

When I woke up that day, I had a mild headache and my stomache was just this side of praying to the great white porcelain god. That was unusual, because I had only had about four beers and although I had attained a buzz, I had not over indulged to a point of making myself sick.

I got ready for work and head out. After a few hours of working, they sent our office home due to some work that needed to be done by the civil engineers and I went back to the barracks. By the time I arrived, my nausea had grown exponentially and eventually led to me losing it. Tis was followed by an extreme urgency of my bowels.

As I sat on the toilet, I felt as if I was having diarrhea, but when I got up, all I saw was bright red blood. This was followed by needing to throw up again and that too was full of blood.

I immediately got up and went to the hospital. I did not own a car at the time and I had to ride the base bus. Each bump, turn, and stop hurt like hell. It was as if someone was stabbing me in the gut. Yet, I had always had a high threshold for pain and was able to make it without screaming out - I was biting my tongue though.

When I arrived at sick call, I was the only person there. It was afternoon and most individuals going to sick call had already been there.

For those who have been through these cattle calls, you know that it is an assembly line. They check your blood pressure, temperature and fill out your "chief complaint." This is followed by a long wait (even if you are the only one there) and then you get to see the doctor.

This meeting was extremely frustrating and being a new Airman, I had little clue as to how to deal with officers, much less doctors. In this case, the doctors were officer and made it even more difficult. Remember, I believed doctors were great men. To top this off, my basic training said you followed orders and when you had only nine months in the military you had little experience as to how to deal with officers.

To put it bluntly, the doctor accused me of wanting to get out of training. He did not listen to my heart, he did not listen to my gut, he did not touch me at all. There were no tests, there were no x-rays and played down what I had told him about the blood in my stools and vomit.

Eventually, he told me I would not know what blood in my stool would look like and called it a virus. He told me he was going to "give me the day off that I wanted" and sent me back to the barracks. I rode the bus back and silently cried at the pain I was having.

I spent the rest of that day and that night lying running back and fourth to the restroom. I found myself sobbing at the pain and praying that it would end.

The next day, I got up and went back to sick call. The idea of the bus and how painful it had been, brought me to the decision to walk to the hospital. It was only about six blocks away, so I cradle my gut and carefully walked. At several points along the way, I stopped and sat down and let the pain subside. No where along the way could I stand straight. Still, the six blocks took me over an hour to traverse.

Little did I know that my forced walk would convince the doctor that I was not that bad off.

The Tuesday morning cattle call was the same as the prior day. Just more people waiting then myself. Again the Doctor did not do any test, x-rays, or even listen to my heart. Again, the doctor did not even touch me. Even though it was a different doctor.

I told him about the blood and he told me that I would not know what blood in the stools looked like. I pushed the issue and asked why my stools were bright red. He immediately called me "Airman" in a show of rank and authority and explained that if I had blood in my stools, it would be black and tar like.

I told him I was vomiting and could not hold anything down. He told me I needed Pepto Bismol and that I was just dehydrated. Then he told me that it was 104 degrees in the shade and that I should have been drinking more water. He asked me how I had gotten there and I told him how. He just laughed.

With that, he sent me back to the barracks. I tried riding the bus again, but it was painful that I felt as if I would pass out more then once. I finally gt off and practically crawled the two blocks back to my barracks. I felt the tears coming down my face and took deep breaths. I finally, figured that I was making a bigger deal of it then it must have been. If I was really that bad off. The Doctor would have put me in the hospital. Wouldn't he?

My room mate brought me some Pepto, but I could not keep it down. I tried to drink some water and could no keep it down either. Through the day and into the night, I found myself passing out.

For Wednesday Sick Call, I talk a friend into taking me to the hospital. It was more of the same. The ride was painful, but not as bad as the bus had been. The sick call was another doctor that did not listen to what I said. He excused the blood in my stool as the Pepto.

The difference was that this time the doctor ran a urine test and found my white count was extremely high. He called it Mono and tried to send me home again. The problem was that it was against the regulations, because I had come to the hospital three days in a row. I soon found myself in the hospital.

I thought I would finally get some relief. I had no idea that relief was not in sight. I had no idea that my intestines were spliting wide open and that I was bleeding internally.

PART TWO:

http://bad4.newsvine.com/_news/2009/07/29/3084543-when-government-health-care-almost-killed-mepart-two

In this attempt at writing, please forgive me for my boo-boos. I am currently on pain meds for another stupid thing I did and hopefully it is coherent and funny.

During my formative years (you know between trying to figure out how to ask a girl out and learn to drive a car), I lived just out side of Beavers Bend State Park in southeastern Oklahoma. Actually, just south a few miles down the road from The Ouachita National Forest (pronounced O- wa-chita) and west of the Broken Bow Lake spill way.

My brother and I had received ten speed bicycles and we became avid riders. Of course, I have already told you about his ride down a hill ( http://bad4.newsvine.com/_news/2009/03/26/2606722-my-brothers-new-shoes ) and in all seriousness, that was his stupid moment.

Of course, I had some of those moments too. What is it in our youthful brains that give us the impression of immortality and a lack of thought about the minor obstacles in life - like things that could kill us.

"HEY! Let's jump in the river!" Never mind the fact you are standing at the edge of a 100 foot cliff!

"Wow! I wonder what would happen if I poked this stick into that bee hive?"

"Is that a poisonous snake?" You might ask as you stab at it with a stick.

Yet, on this occasion that I have been thinking about, it was "Wow! Cool hill! How fast can we ride down it?"

The thoughts of slope or degree, gravity or gravel do not cross your mind. It does not matter that it is 40% grade with a winding road that cars found difficult to traverse at a minor 25 miles an hour. What matters is the cool factor. The roller coaster that the Army Corp of Engineers had made just for you and your younger brother to test out with new ten speed bikes!

Nor does it even cross your mind that the top of the damn is 610 feet high above the river with the road at the bottom sitting just above said river in less then a quarter of a mile. Those notions might make you think twice and decide that the trip to the bottom was a bit much, unless you rode the brakes all the way down.

Brakes, smakes. Who cares that even Evil Kenevil would plan for days before making any attempt at riding a ten speed down as fast as you could! Never mind that little thing called a helmet or even a though of pads.

What mattered the most was beating the record of Jimmy Joe! The fact that Jimmy had missed the turn and taken the trip less traveled off the cliff and falling to the river, thus making an extremely fast ride down was not even in the equation.

In fact, the idea that Jimmy might not even exist never crossed either of our minds. Our Uncle had told us about him and it never crossed our teenage stupidity that he might have been trying to warn us from ever riding our bikes down said hill. NOOOOO! Our Uncle had told us and thus it was true!

Uncle Luke said it and Jimmy was the local legend and that made it the God's honest truth! As adults we have asked this question on numerous occasions, but in our youth we knew for sure that Jimmy was a bike god among men! Of course, Uncle Luke denies the story to this day, but I degrees.

We started out on the far side of the dam and picked up as much speed as we could. Faster and faster until we were passing cars on the dam road. My brother was fast, but I took the lead. Then I hit the hill.

What a wondrous feeling! The adrenaline shot through my veins as quickly as the road past under my wheels. I passed another car, and then another. I took the first turn and shot further down the road. Then it happened.

Have you ever been hit in the forehead by a June bug? I can attest that it hurts like hell! Yet, I never knew they flew in flocks.........

Suddenly I was pelted all about my face as bugs squished against my face. My skin stretched tight from the blistering wind! The gross factor was setting in about the time one flew in my mouth. Ever choke, hack and cough while riding a ten speed at a billion miles an hours?

Then I shot through the gravel as my front wheel threw the tiny shards into my bare legs. I knew I could not turn, because it would put me on the ground...sliding my bare legs through gravel. The only problem was that it forced me to go straight into the swimming area.

I shot across the parking area and over the wall that was a few feet high. I landed on the sand and it caused my bike to slide then catch. I found myself flying through the air catapulted by the sudden stop of the bike. I saw the bike tumble as I went out over the water.

Ever skip a stone? Yup! I skipped across the water then found myself buried in it.

As I swam back to the beach, I saw my brother slowly coming down the hill. He gently parked his bike and walked over to me.

"Couldn't wait for me?" He said.

"Nope." It was all I could muster.

Now, that I am grown, I and look back at things like this, I know why my mother thanked God, I was in bed each night.

When we first got Austin, he joined our family with another dog, Frito. Both were puppies (Frito at about one year, Austin at about eight weeks) and full of fun and live.

Eventually, both grew old and passed away. Austin last August and Frito in February of this year. I do miss them.

Yet, on some days, I remember some of our times together and this is one such case.

By the time Frito and Austin were full sized we had never taken them any where past the back yard. Then a pet fair was held at a local park. They offered $5 shots, free exams and fun for the entire family. So, we loaded them up and headed across town for what promised to be a day of fun.

Now Austin, a Rottweiler/Sharpei mix at approximately 100 lbs and Frito, a Lab/Cocker mix at approximately 70 lbs climbed into the car for their second automobile ride. Of Course, this left little room for anyone else, so I took my wife and a friend of ours took our children.

I start the car and Frito immediately starts to whine. I look at him and decide it might be better to get him out and let him go potty before we leave. Yet, when I open the door, he looks at me with this sad look as if to say, "I have to get out? What did I do?"

His hesitation leads me to believe that he did not need to go. So, I closed the door and got back in. Frito starts to cry again. This time, I get out, grab the leash and pull. Frito pulls back and hides behind Austin. As I pull again, Austin jumps out and starts trotting around the car, leash in tow.

I quickly run after Austin - who knew he could run that fast? I chase him around the back of the car, around to the front and past the grill. Just as I am turning past the drivers side front., I see Frito's leash turning the corner of the back of the car. Yeah, that is me. The guy who was dumb enough to expect the dog to do what he was originally doing and refuse to get out.

I look at my wife as I am trying to step on Austin's leash and get the classic "What are you doing" stare. I could see her give the "harrumph" exasperated look and she opened the door just in time for Frito to jump into her lap and start licking her make up off. Austin was fast behind him. I caught up to him in time to see muscle his way into her lap.

I closed the door and ran to the other side just in time to see Frito jump out again. This time, in my gruffest voice, I growled, "Frito! Get in the car!" I was actually amazed, because it worked.

Getting in, I put the car in reverse and turned to look back. Of course, to Austin this meant he needed to put his face into mine and start licking. I turned back around, used my mirrors and backed out of the drive way.

I drive a little ways when I realize I have a head next to mine with his tongue hanging out. It is like your own personal "heavy Breather" phone call. Then, you start to feel it.

For those of you who own large dogs, you know what it is like to have a dog hanging over your shoulder drolling down your neck. You find yourself driving down the road with your head twisted in a fashion that only fans of "The Exorcist" would enjoy. Of course, the only time your dogs stop drolling is long enough to run from one side of the car to the other. This is so the dogs can see which side of the car the wind taste better on and/or to check which side of the car needs more droll down its side.

Still, the interesting thing is weight distribution as you go around corners. Why is they run to the inside of each corner as you go around it. Sure, it is a subtle feeling, but you can still feel the 170 lb shift as you see them pass by in your rear view mirror. Then, on the straight away I seem to grow an extra head. This time it is Frito.

That may not mean much to you, kind reader. Yet, for me it means about 10 gallons of droll less then if it is Austin. However, it also means the random tongue in the ear deal. Have I ever mentioned I have very clean ears?

We finally reach the park. My wife as pretty as ever and me looking as if I took a shower with my clothes on. This only happens due to the fact that my short wife (5ft 2in) does not have her seat pushed back. Still, I am extremely pleased that neither Frito or Austin had one of their farting sessions. Then again, perhaps that would have kept my head stuck out the side of the window and thus, kept me dryer.

Once we get there, my being the brave soul that I am, I take both leashes as the dogs jump out of the car. We head across the park and immediate start hitting the large crowds. My dogs love people. They obviously believe people were put on this earth for the pleasure of them. So, Austin shows his love to the first woman he meets. He walks up behind her, places his head under her skirt and flips it up. Now ladies,imagine if you will a cold wet nose on your inner thigh as you feel your skirt or dress flipped up. This all happened in a matter of seconds and I did not teach him to do this.

Of course, the woman must have thought differently. She slapped me. And of course, my wife asks if I know her.

This was followed by some stammering as my mind and dignity were reeling. Still, as I explained what happened Frito had to take his turn by peeing on the leg of the closest University of Oklahoma Football Player (did I mention we live just down the street from the University?).

Now anyone who watches this renowned team, knows those guys are not small and this one was the size of large walk in freezer.

"Hey! Your dog pissed on my leg." He stated with an angry look on his face.

"Oh, I am so sorry." I said in earnest, hoping he would not crumple me like a beer can.

"That's OK." He said and started to smile. "I have a dog myself. He just likes me and wants to mark me as his territory."

I smiled and quietly counted my blessing and hoped my blushing embarrassment would just fade away.

Then Austin took a second turn. Suddenly, his front went to the ground and his butt was high up as his tail took off like a whirling dervish. Need less to say, Austin quickly showed me his favorite toy was cats. I felt the sudden surge as my 180 lb frame went sideways. Austin did not mind, he knew I was just along for the ride.

Have I ever told you how interesting the world looks from the ground up as you slide through a forest of legs? It can be quite exhilarating. At least till you reach the gravel. You get to see the grass from a bugs point of view as you scream "NOOOO! BAD DOG!" at the top of your lungs.

Austin drug me some distance before the cat got away.

Yeah, we did a lot of training after that.

So, after kissing my wife and watching her climb back in bed, I flipped off the light and practically floated down the hall to the smell of coffee. I was sure I resembled a cartoon character following the aroma of my "go-go" juice. I stopped only long enough to press the button on my laptop to turn it on, at least I think I did.

I grabbed the biggest cup we have, filled it and started gulping the brown liquid down before remembering I drink it with cream and that it was hot. As my tongue melted, I did dawn me and I gasp for some cool air. I turned and grabbed the refrigerator handle and yanked it open

I was still so asleep that I almost put mustard in my coffee, before I realized it. Still, I finally got the Carnation flavored creamer out (my wife spoils me- he-he) and added it. This cooled it down enough to sip and I started toward the living room. Plopping myself on the couch, I wondered if I had left my computer on, but since there was no screen saver on, I decided I must have turned it on, at least I think I turned it on. At this point wasn't even sure I was awake.

I drank my coffee as I clicked my way to the national weather service to see how to dress for my appointment. I knew I would wear a short sleeve shirt, because of the IV the Nurses would place, but in Oklahoma at this time of year it pays to see if you might want short pants and/or conversely might need a jacket.

I drank my coffee quickly to try to wake up as I navigated over to Newsvine. After having to read an article several times and still not following it, I decided it was time for more coffee. At least this time I did not try to add a condiment. Of course, I probably would not have know if I did. Much less, admit that I did it twice.

After three large cups I finally felt semi-functional and went to get ready. So, I slid down the hall to the room, slipped the door closed and in the dark started getting taking off my pajamas. That was when it happened.

I pulled off my bottoms and then my boxers and started to pull my t-shirt off over my head when I suddenly felt this extreme cold wet "thing" touch my right bare butt cheek and I yelped. I couldn't help it. I jumped forward with my shirt covering my face. I twisted and yanked at my shirt to see what touched me. I did not realize I was that close to the wall. At least not until I ran into it.

Bouncing back, I landed on my bare butt with a thud. I quickly yanked the shirt off and by the night light from the bathroom I could see Bohdi standing there wagging his tail as if he thought I was playing with him. He had his front half down with his butt in the air and his tail going at wind mill speeds. I was upset that he had touched my butt with that ice cold nose, but how can you stay mad at such an innocent face. Still, if I never have a dogs cold nose against my bare butt again, it will be too soon.

I looked at my wife and she had barely stirred during the whole incident. I wish I could sleep like her. I almost expected her to tell me to turn the alarm off again.

I guess it was his pay back for me waking him when I stepped on him earlier as I struggled with the alarm. He quickly stepped up and began to licking my face. I let him know he wasn't trouble, got to my feet and finished getting ready.

I managed to get to the VA Hospital a little early and went to get my labs done. Having had my blood drawn just short of a million times, I have learned to appreciate the vampires at the VA Hospital Lab. They are very good at getting blood out of this turnip.

Next was the pharmacy to pick up some of my shots.

While waiting, I noticed this elder man standing at the window. He had a walker and two hearing aids. His legs had braces on them and he was held his walker tight. He talked very loud and it was impossible not to notice the conversation.

"You have that medicine?" He yelled.

"No sir, we are out." The clerk replied.

"So you don't have any Viagra or Cialis?" He yelled as everybody in the place turned toward him.

"No sir."

"Okay, so how am I supposed to explain to her that she isn't getting any tonight?" He demanded "My girlfriend wants me bad! I do have a hot body, you know!"

"Sir, I am sorry. We will mail it to you as soon as we get it." She said. I looked around and there were several smirks.

"Okay." He said politely and turned toward the waiting line. I think it dawned on him that everyone had heard the conversation. Wide eyed he said to all of us "Damn, my woman ain't gonna be happy. She wants this hot body, that God blessed me with, all the time!" He winked at me and pushed his walker forward.

I felt sorry for him, but was amused at the same time.

I got my medicine and went to the infusion clinic. As usual, I found my comfortable chair in the corner, curled up in it and fell asleep.

Now, as anyone who has been in a hospital will tell you, Nurses wake you all the time. They will wake you to see if you want something to help you sleep. Of course, they have a job to do, but that doesn't make it any easier. First, was the blood pressure. Of course, always being anxious about these things and having a gallon of coffee in me, my blood pressure was a tad high. George, knew this and he claimed I did it on purpose to make him come back a second time. Sandy, Jerry and Tina also claims the same thing every time I show up and it always take a second reading to let the caffeine high and anxiety decrease enough to get a normal reading.

The second time it was normal and they received the labs, so I was good to go. A new nurse student was there today and she stuck me twice without striking "oil" and she started crying. I hate women or children crying. I tried to tell her it was okay, but that seemed to make it worse. Sandy stepped in and got the IV in the first time. I felt sorry for the poor student.

The next wake up was to see if I wanted a blanket. The third was to tell me my chemo (don't worry, it is only a bilologic for Crohn's, not the other big "C") was coming up from Pharmacy. The forth was to see what I wanted for lunch.

"Hun, what would you like for lunch?" Sandy asked.

"Food." I replied and the elder gentlemen setting around the room roared with laughter.

Sandy stood there with the strangest look on her face. She was dumb founded as to what to say and I wondered if she was about to order to worst thing on the menu.

"You are very lucky we think you are our best patient." Sandy said with a sly smile.

I finished my treatment, drove home and crashed for most of that day.

I am just thankful these only come once every six weeks.

As some of you who have tracked my articles know, I have Crohn's Diseases and have to get an infusion of what is referred to as a biologic every six to eight weeks. Today (6 May) was one of those days.

The alarm went off at 5 Am and drug me kicking and screaming out of my slumber where I was chasing my naked wife and........Well, you get the idea, great dream interrupted.

I had been up till 1 AM helping my daughter with a project that she had run into problems on. The last one of her Senior year and you wonder why I have gray in my beard. She is the third one, so I am lucky I am not bald by now.

I hurried, with my eyes half closed and me not even awake yet, toward my desk to shut the darn thing off and tripped over the dog. Of course, he yelped and I half fell, half jumped and ended up landing on my wife's feet. "Honeyyyyy.....its the alarm. Shut it off." She whined.

I slipped off the end of the bed and stumbled to the clock. I was already pressing buttons when I realized I had picked up the phone and was dialing God only knows who. With my luck, it was probably ringing the Kremlin Hot line!

"It's the button on top. It's the black button." She cried, as if I could see the color black in a room that could pass for a photographer's dark room.

Oops. I realized that I was now pounding the top of Wii console. I looked around and wondered where I had put my glasses. It is bad enough that the room was extremely dark without the blurred vision, an animal some where on the floor, and an half asleep women whining at a half asleep man.

The alarm whooped at close intervals as I slid down the wall to my night stand and groped in the dark for my second eyes. As I found them, I slid them on my face and started my quest over. I could see the green blinking light on my router and the red blinking light on my cable modem, but the clock wasn't sitting where it had been sitting for the past four years.

"SHUT THE ALARM OFF!" she yelled as the clock continued the burp out it annoying chime. I scanned the room and saw clock numbers on the dresser next to the TV and slowly moved that way being careful not to step on the dog again. I was thankful the dog had moved.

I noticed the glowing numbers looked odd. Crap! The Cable box. I stepped closer and finally saw small red numbers sitting back against the wall on top of the cable box. It wasn't the alarm clock we have had for the past 13 years. Huh?

"THE ALARM! It's the button on top! The button on top! Hit the button on top!" She ordered as she hit the light and jumped out of bed. She grabbed the small radio clock and started pushing buttons.

"When did we get this?" I asked as I stifled a yawn.

"Yesterday." She replied.

"Why did you move it?"

"Looks better here."

"And you couldn't warn me?"

"What fun would that be?" She replied and leaned up to kiss me.

I returned her kiss and looked over at Bohdi who had jumped on my side of the bed at the foot. His tail wagging and his eyes were saying "Pleaseeeee.....Can I go back to sleep." Little did I know that the adage "let sleeping dogs lay" would come back to get me this morning.

I rubbed his head and went to get my coffee. Lord, I need that coffee. I just pray it is stronger then me this morning.