Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Souper Guy and Kami: Part Two

Five years is a long time. I wasn’t homeless anymore, so that’s good. In fact, I was doing pretty well. I had finally graduated from college and had a great job in a great city. My apartment was clean and in a great neighborhood. Everything was going great. Almost too great. At work I was known as the witty guy. I had won several ‘Funniest guy in the Office’ awards in a row (okay, all of them) because I really did have a great sense of humor, and I liked making people smile. But now it was getting weird. Not only were my jokes funny, they were slaying people. My co-workers would laugh and laugh, harder and harder, longer and longer. Seriously… people were being hospitalized left and right. It was kinda scary. But that’s not the only thing that was scary. I’ve always been fairly athletic, even though I never worked out when I was younger. I was naturally talented in sports and could always run pretty fast. But I was always a skinny guy. So in college I started to work out. Something happened. I started to be able to run really fast. I mean REALLY fast. It was kind of a gradual thing, but I ended up quitting the track team because it wasn’t fair. After college, it continued to progress to where I could out run cars. Then, it got to the point to where instead of sitting in traffic during a 45 minute commute, I could run to work in 4.5 seconds. What was happening to me?
                  I decided to go to my doctor to see if he could explain everything or anything. All of the test results came back normal… except for one. The doctor asked me if I had difficulty breathing, chest pains and/or a large amount of energy. I told him no. I explained that I had heart surgery as an infant because I was born prematurely. I also told him that the operation was a normal, routine process, that it was a success and that I hadn’t had any difficulties as a result. He looked at me for a moment and then said, “No, you’re wrong. It wasn’t a normal operation. They didn’t do to you what they told you they did to you.” He paused just long enough to see the expression on my face change, then he continued. "Your heart is golden."  I breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled. The doctor saw I wasn't taking him seriously and revamped his effort to make sure I understood that he was being serious. "You don't understand. I'm gravely serious. This is the most bizarre thing I've ever seen in all my years of practicing medicine. Your heart is literally made of gold.”

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