Send in the Clowns

January 2023

It would seem that one of my new favorite pastimes is collecting catastrophically bad days like they were trading cards. These last 24 hours are going to make a fine addition to the series.

Yesterday, I left my mother’s apartment in Beaverton to drive to a U-Haul storage unit near my sister’s home in Corvallis. It’s where we have been storing all of the salvageable keepsakes and artifacts of Kara’s that had been recovered from the fire.

I was supposed to transfer everything into a mobile container that would be transported across the country to her family in Pennsylvania. This would be the final official act that I needed to handle in the wake of her passing. Needless to say, I was anxious and not at all looking forward to it.

About 15 miles out of town, my late-model, low-mileage, very well-cared-for car died on a country road. AAA would eventually arrive and deliver the car and myself to the dealership in Beaverton where I regularly have it serviced. This morning, I texted the dealership to see if they had any updates and received this exact text in reply: “Hey Adam. Got some bad news. The technician popped the hood and looked inside the engine and found a large oil leak and metal chunks. The metal chunk looks like it’s from the engine. The technician is going to need to find a way to push the car in. This is going to take us a while.” “Okay, thanks.”

What the hell, man!? I can’t even finish taking care of my deceased wife’s affairs without life sticking it in and breaking it off one more time. I don’t know what I did, and I don’t know who I pissed off. But I feel like I somehow inadvertently made it to the Championship round of “What’s it Going to Take to Induce a Complete Breakdown?” And I don’t want to play anymore. Happy Hour is coming early today.

48 Hours later…

Hey hey - who's got two thumbs and a raging case of gout? This guy!!! Woke up two nights ago with searing pain in my foot. Finally, this morning, I couldn't take it anymore and went to urgent care. After some preliminary questions and an examination, we arrived at this part of the conversation.

Doctor: "You drink beer?"

Me: "Yep."

Doctor: "Do you eat red meat?”

Me: “Yes sir.”

Doctor: “How about seafood?”

Me: “Mmm hmm.”

Doctor: “Shellfish?”

Me: “Oh yeah - regularly harvest my own mussels around the corner from my house!”

Doctor: “Oh my. What about mushrooms?”

Me: “Ha! Same deal. I’m out there foraging wild mushrooms like a fiend. Yes to it all, like it’s going out of style. Are we just compiling a list of things that are awesome? Because I’m happy to contribute!”

Doctor: "Oh, wow. Okay. Well, I’m thinking that this is probably gout. Been under any excessive stress lately?"

Me: ***Slow-building, maniacal laughter***

Doctor: "That sounds like a yes. We’ll run some tests."

Me: "Sure. That's prudent. But based on this little back and forth we just had, it would appear that I am the fucking Gout King! I am the Alpha and the Omega - where gout begins and ends. Henceforth, all cases of gout will be measured against...."

Doctor: "They’ll be in to take some blood shortly."

Me: "Okay, thanks."