Today on Faceb.ook, I saw that someone had become a fan of the page, "I hate it when you're hanging out with MC Hammer and he won't let you touch anything."
I should have taken MC with me to the hospital today.
I went to visit a parishioner who is having a variety of medical problems: near-kidney failure, irregular heartbeat, possible sleep apnea, all on top of diabetes. Surprisingly, despite this rather depressing list, she feels fine. And people who are stuck in the hospital for endless tests, but who feel fine, are generally one thing: CHATTY. As was she.
So she told me in great detail about all these ailments (side note: I never really understood this tendency people get, while they're in the hospital, to tell you whole bunches of things you did not wan to know about the insides of their bodies, until I went through fertility treatments. Lots o' medical treatments must give you amnesia when it comes to remembering that people may not want to hear all that stuff). And we talked about various other things. And then she said, "I hear that congratulations are in order!" so we chatted for a minute about that, until she said, "well, my son and daughter-in-law are trying, but they're not having any luck, so I told them to just relax," and I took a deep breath and said something gently about how we had tried for a long time, and how hard it is to not be successful. And she said briskly, "well, I told them to pretend they were going steady and sneaking around and that would do the trick in a heartbeat!"
So I said a short prayer under my breath for her son and daughter-in-law.
As I was leaving, she said, "now when is the baby due?" And as she said it, she leaned out of her hospital bed and reached over and tickled my stomach.
DUDE. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? I have a very small bump, somewhat more distinguishable today because of the top I'm wearing, but still - I'm not at the stage where you look at me and think, "pregnant." You might look at me and think, "too many cheeseburgers," but that's about it.
I know that pregnant women have to deal with the belly-touching thing, but I really thought I could wait awhile for that. It creeped me out. I felt like leaning over, scratching her abdomen, and saying, "good luck with the kidney thing!" but that didn't seem particularly helpful.
MC, if you're available, I could use you for the next five and half months or so. Give me a call.