Tuesday, January 29, 2013

My Medical Condition

I don’t normally don t reveal such personal information, but I must share with you my recent diagnosis of a peculiar ailment.  It is so rare that it has only been verified in people from Baltimore.  More specifically, only people who live in my condo. 

According to Gray’s Anatomy (the medical book, not the television show) this is my condition:
Looseous Greymatterous:” the anxiety-driven fear of the inability to get home because of falling snow.  This ailment generally manifests itself in strained neck muscles due to the patient’s constant turns to the window to see if a snowflake has fallen, blistered fingers from checking the internet for weather updates, and the inability to concentrate on anything but the following:
“Do I have enough books to read in case of a blizzard?”
“Do I have enough gas to get me all the way home?”

I believe this ailment could have its origins in the Big Blizzard of 1977.  I was in college but stuck at home for one week with only the following reading materials: Text books from “Religions Throughout the World” and “Philosophy 204,”plus a whole bunch of “Cosmo” magazines.
I read and reread those books out of sheer boredom.  I swear, on my deathbed, its going to be a toss-up as to whether I request Last Rites from a priest, chanting from a Buddhist monk, or a tube of Posey Rosey lipstick and to die in the arms of a unmarried male doctor.  

Also, during that memorable week, my sister ate the ENTIRE bag of Doritos one night while watching some stupid horror movie marathon.  I remember standing on the front lawn, my fist raised to the heavens, and swearing aloud, “As God is my witness, I will never be in this position again.  I don’t care if I have to lie, cheat, steal or beg, as God is my witness, I will never be bored or saltless again!” 

Okay, maybe that last part was more or less a dream, but in my heart the emotions were there. 

The people I work with know that the first snowflake triggers this condition, so they stand clear of the door.  I once left the office so quickly after spotting flurries that I left skidmarks on one of Dr. Lifesaver’s lab coats.  To this day, I am afraid to ask him if he was wearing it at the time. 

Maybe I have been selfish in keeping this knowledge to myself.  Perhaps I should tell the world about this little-known disease. Maybe we can all work together to find a cure. Hey, I know…let’s do a telethon! I’ll be there as the living face of this dreaded disease.

Unless, of course, it snows that night.  Then I’ll be home, watching it on TV with an open bag of Doritos.