Chuck's Chat-Welcome to December

Something out of the ordinary this month, a recap of my latest adventure.

I had fed the cows to keep them happy and to keep them full.
I noticed one was missing; it was that ornery bull.
He had done this before. I knew where he would be.
He liked to snort and paw to the bull on the neighbor’s property.
I drove along the tree line but did see him at all.
It was only a few moments later that I received the call.
“You’re bull is over here again. They’ve been fighting quite a while.”
I could tell by the tone of his voice he was not wearing a smile.
“I’m coming down the road,” said I. “I’m almost to your farm.”
“Come on through the gate,” he said. “They’re just west of the barn.”
And so I drove towards the bulls but kept my distance right.
I’ve seen the aftermath on trucks involved in bovine fights.
They pushed and shoved and snorted and groaned, neither willing to budge.
Each one trying to establish dominance, it seemed they held a grudge.
Then all at once my bull turned, and made his way towards home.
I headed off the neighbor’s bull, in hopes he’d stay alone.
We jumped into my truck and followed mine to the border fence.
He knew where he belonged; perhaps he’d regained his sense.
I stopped the truck between two trees and ran to open the gate.
But the bull ran past and headed for me. Alas, I was too late.
I tried to make him turn around and go the other way.
I really wasn’t too concerned; I’d known him since his first day.
It soon became apparent he cared not for our relationship.
I could tell by his bulging eyes this wouldn’t be a pleasant trip.
I turned to run and made two steps before he caught up with me.
He’d placed his head on my backside almost perfectly.
He launched me into the air. How far, I did not see.
I only know I did not land so very gracefully.
With a thud I opened my eyes and saw him staring back at me.
He lowered his head and charged once more. I was in no shape to flee.
He shoved me along the ground and maybe rolled me as well.
I saw his back left hoof pass by. It missed as near as I could tell.
He ran about ten yards away and then he spun around.
Two thousand pounds of evil staring at me on the ground.
I said to myself, this could be it, then he turned and ran away.
I got up and yelled to my neighbor, “Don’t try to turn him. He’ll take you today.”
I made my way back to the gate to give it one more try.
But my left arm wouldn’t work, and I was somewhat cross eyed.
Then I realized I couldn’t breathe, at least not like I should.
I thought I’ll bet I broke some ribs, this cannot be good.
And so to the hospital we did go, my neighbor driving me.
Awaiting there a trained team of medical staff I thought I was glad to see.
“Sir, can I cut off your shirt?” I looked at her appalled.
“Just unsnap the sleeves,” I said. Guess they’ve never seen western shirts at all.
“Are you an organ donor?” a nurse politely asked.
I replied “Yes, I am. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Are Julie and Tina still listed as your closest next of kin?”
I thought to myself, oh good grief, here we go again.
It seemed as though they took advantage of my weakened state.
I became the trial and error boy for needle insertion mistakes.
So after X-rays, CT scans, and twenty question tries,
The final verdict couldn’t be made until I had an MRI.
Those machines are not made for one who wears a 2XL.
I’d rather face that bull again than go through that hell.
I’m not ashamed to admit I’m claustrophobic, too.
The first attempt at this procedure, I didn’t make it through.
But with the help of Valium and oxygen to boot,
I made it fine, just like runnin’ cattle through the chute.
No broken ribs, a bruised left lung, dislocated and fractured shoulder,
Just a reminder that I’m not as spry, now that I’m getting older.
No surgery required, just relax and keep it still.
Thanks doc, that sounds good to me. I believe I will.