Take Me Somewhere Else
I’m in trouble and apparently I need a lot of help. I can’t do this on my own.
Okay. I’ll start off the right way.
My name is Chuck and I’m addicted to cheese. (I think that’s how they do it. I’ve seen it done a few times on tv but I wasn’t taking notes or anything on the technique.)
I went to my doctor yesterday for my three month follow-up whatever. I did my blood sucking (excuse me…blood work) last week and pissed in a tiny glass (which I proudly filled right up to the line!). I did my part. Then I waited for the week until I got to see my doctor and talk about what they found floating around in my fluids. I got weighed and temperature taken and blood pressure done. They poked a thing in my ear, pulled it out, looked at it and then entered the math they pulled out of my ear into the computer. We talked about the medications I consume on a daily basis. We went through the entire battery of pills because I brought them with me to the appointment. “This pill makes me dizzy every time I take it”, “This pill is as big as a house! You’re really testing my gag reflex with it” “This pill is nice and goes down easy. Does it come in grape?” etc. etc. blah blah blah.
It turns out that my cholesterol is off the charts. To make the matter even more dire, the numbers were highlighted in red so that I would be alarmed. It’s math. Math has never alarmed me. Nice try, though. What DID alarm me was when she (my doctor) (the lady I was entrusting with my very life) told me I would have to cut cheese out of my diet.
WHAT? Did I fall into an alternative universe somewhere between the waiting room and that cold examining room? WHAT??
She was serious. I tried to make eye contact with her when she gave me the devastating news, but she kept looking at the computer. If you’re going to kill me at least LOOK at me!
She said it again and added an affirmation to it. “YES..you’ll have to cut cheese out of your diet.” I thought we were getting along. We did the weight thing, the pill thing, we bonded over all the numbers from the beats going on in my body. And she hit me with denying me cheese. I even pissed in a cup for her!
Tim was in the room with me. The moment she said “cut cheese out of your diet” his head went up. She had his attention now. Why? Because everything I eat has cheese in it in some form or fashion. Tim puts ketchup on everything he eats. I put cheese on mine. It’s how I make food better. I even put cheese in my grits. Grilled cheese. I’ll slap two slices of cheese in between two slices of bread and call that lunch. Hell…screw the bread. I’ll just eat the cheese! It’s how I eat. Cheese on spaghetti, cheese in mashed potatoes. Why do they even make so much shredded cheese if they didn’t want me to add cheese on top of my fried eggs??
Did she mean ALL cheese? Or just the square kind? Was there a certain color I should avoid? If there was ever a point to play “end of the world” music as the backdrop to any situation…now was the time to introduce it. And then this woman had the nerve to end our consultation with “Have a great day.” As if! My day has been crushed with no hope of ever being resurrected thankyouverymuch.
When Tim and I left and got into the car and lit up our cigarettes (I know…I see the irony there) Tim said that since she knew she could never get me to stop smoking she was bound to pick something I truly loved with all of my heart and yank it away from me. She wanted to hurt me and she succeeded. When we got home and were STILL talking about it I reached onto the top shelf of the fridge in total auto-animation to reach for a slice of cheese and continued to bitch about how I had to give up cheese all the while spitting cheesy bits. I was mad. The nerve. That bitch! Why didn’t she like me???
Did I have to steer clear of cottage cheese too? Tim asked about cream cheese. No! Not cream cheese. Surely she can’t be THAT evil. Will I have to stop saying “Cheese” when someone takes my picture?
After I calmed down I did some research and it turns out that even though I was sort-of-laughing about my new-found addiction to cheese and how I am now a chunkie (that’s a play on “junkie” but for those who can’t go without cheese) I found out that addiction to cheese is an actual thing. Self realization was kicking in. I was going to have to get on the phone and call a rehab center to fight this. No kidding…there are studies out there on the worldwide web that have come to the conclusion that “cheese contains a high concentration of the milk protein casein, which breaks down during digestion into opiates called casomorphins, which in turn trigger the receptors in the brain that are linked to addiction.” OPIATES! I have been doing opiates my entire adult life and didn’t even realize it! Hell…my grandmother used to make me THE BEST grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. She’s the root of my addiction. She got me hooked. That bitch!
And it doesn’t help that I live in the country with all these cows roaming everywhere. Just today I was driving by some and they looked at me all seductively. Not today, you whores. I have to quit you. My name is Chuck, and I’m addicted to cheese. I don’t know if I can make it through this week without getting a hit of cheddar. I need help. (do they make cheese patches??)
I wonder how much I can get at the pawn shop for that Xbox 360 collecting dust over there?
A quick edit: Most of this post is all in jest. Except for the “cheese being an opiate and I’m an addict” part. The visit to the doctor’s was one of the best I’ve ever had. We talked about EVERYTHING and she even assisted me in getting Fish Oil and chocolate Ensure. She didn’t have to do that, and she did. She was great. As always. I didn’t want anyone to think she’s an ogre or anything. She isn’t. Except for the taking my cheese away from me stunt…she is pretty damn awesome.