Friday, September 18, 2009

I Guess This Is Good-Bye.

We've known eachother only a few short weeks. But in that time, we've become well aquainted. I've gotten used to your presence - so much so that when you "speak" to me, I don't even notice.

But today is good bye.

No more holding out a handful of your leads, while silently repeating to myself "Smoke over fire, righty-whitey."

No more sticky patches, threatening to remove my skin when I want to remove them. No more white to compare the gray or blueness of my skin to. I was really quite happy with my previous perception, and could have done without your wake-up call.
As for your metal clip... no longer will it warm itself in the flesh of my back. There will be no more mornings spending several minutes discovering what part of me this clip has attacked while I slept. It will be strange, for sure, but I am fairly certain that I will find a way to adjust and sleep without you.

And your voice? It may well be generated by the smallest of speakers, but it has a certain quality that really grates. You should get your last statements made, because Friday is your last day with me. I shall be returning you to your black, plastic prison and shipping you off to your maker. I suspect you'll be forced into silence for quite some time.

And finally, I come to your button. This button looks so innocent. When we first met, I questioned the ability of this button to do anything of use. I wondered that something so small and innocuous could be counted on to record anything of value. Imagine my suprise when this little button triggered urgent calls from my doctor, unscheduled visits with the cardiologist, and a significant increase in medication. Not to mention the tests, and maybe future procedures.

And so I bid you farewell. Have a safe trip, Mr. E.M. I hope we never meet again.

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