Never Tell Anyone It’s Your Birthday


The phone rang.  Normally I check the phone ID, but something said answer the phone.  I did.

A choir started singing Happy Birthday to me. Holy cow it’s the Heavenly Choir singing Happy Birthday to me.

Wait.  You know what that means?  It’s time for me to go.

Now I realize I’ve been fighting these cancers for 20 years, but this is a most inopportune time for me to depart this earth.

There are several more things I need to do.

First I need to know how the Heavenly Choir got my phone number.  Well I guess there had to be some Omnipotence involved, and that explains that.

I have to receive my birthday card in the mail from my niece.  One sister started sending me humorous cards many years ago, and my niece, her daughter, continues the tradition.  The humorous birthday cards my sister even sent to my wife.  The one that stands out in my mind is the one that said, “I was going to send you a gag gift, but you’re already married to my brother.”

I’m not sure Heaven was ready for that sister, but she arrived, and they had to make adjustments.

Then there’s that book I’m starting.

Wait again.  This can’t be the Heavenly Choir. Another sister of mine said if she ever got to Heaven, she would sing in the Heavenly Choir.  Only one problem. She sang off-key all her life. This birthday greeting was sung on-key, perfect pitch.  I looked down at the phone ID. Urology Centers.

You might wonder who the Urology Centers Choir consists of.  I think I identified three culprits, maybe more, but at least Kacie, Tracie, and Tammie.

These are such professional nurses who are willing to always take my blood whether I want to give it or not. The three musketeerettes rush it to  the Lab, and the Lab comes back next day with a report, “You are alive”.

I would say these are three sweet ladies. That’s not PC.  I can’t say that, so I won’t. These ladies are highly intelligent.  That’s not PC.  I can’t say that, so I won’t.  These ladies are so delicate in their work and mannerisms.  That’s not PC.  I can’t say that, so I won’t. With these ladies, I can’t imagine their husbands appreciate them enough.  That’s not PC.  I can’t say that, so I won’t.

I can say these ladies were willing participants in this scheme.  And who was the schemer?  Altogether they said at once, “Dr. Hamilton”.

I first had to say to myself, my faithful, loyal doctor, would she do something like this?  Yes.

The ladies said they practiced. My question is where?

Not in the Urology Centers building. The patients therein would have run out of the building because they didn’t want it to be there time either.  They couldn’t see who was singing, and would think as I initially did—The Heavenly Choir.

Maybe they practiced outside in the parking lot. Curious onlookers would have called the police and said, “You’re not going to believe this. Has there been a report of three lunatics escaping from the insane asylum at the same time?”

Maybe they went to Piggly Wiggly just down the street. The other day when Piggy’s power went out, the meat market employees had to rush all the meat on display into a huge freezer in the back that has its own generator.  The power was restored after a few hours, and the freezer now stands empty.  I know the owner, and just know he would have allowed these scoundrels to practice in that freezer.

I know now it was the freezer where they practiced.  Some of their words when they were singing had icicles hanging off of them.

Look, I know that Dr. Joelle, as I am inclined to call her in her non-plotting moments, is the end of the life doctor, that is her profession.  But, darn it, I sure prefer to laugh now and then while I’m getting there.

As for these four, Kacie, Tracie, Tammie, and Dr. Joelle, you have no idea what they are capable of. I await the next time.

As to my niece, what did her birthday card with a cow on it say? “Holy cow. It’s your birthday”.

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