Dark Angel

Dark Angel
By G.W. Hogg
©10-31-08



Nancy looked up from her book, just as Jane flew in through the open doors that led to the backyard
“God Damn it!” Jane exclaimed as she landed with a thud and folded her dark leathery wings against her bronze body. “Next week, I’m going to see the plastic surgeon!”
“What’s wrong?” Nancy said as she stood and glided quietly over to Jane. She reached up, wiped the trickle of blood from Jane’s chin. “I can see you fed.” She seductively licked the blood off her finger. “And you fed well.”
“Not well enough. You know how I like to frighten my victims!”
“I could never understand that. They taste so much better, when improperly seduced.” She sat down again as Jane continued to pace.
“I know you like the smoky mix of serotonin and endorphin that you get from seducing a man, but nothing beats the sharp tang that adrenaline gives to the blood.”
“To each her own. But you never have a problem frightening them.”
“It’s not just frightening them, it’s how you do it. Oh, you wouldn’t understand!”
“Oh come on Jane. I’m not dead!”
“Well, you know how I like to swoop down on my victims.”
“Yes.”
“There is a subtle difference in the taste of blood, depending on how you frighten them. Startling them is the absolute best! Their blood is just flooded with adrenalin!”
“So.”
“So, I just can’t startle them with my damn breasts!”
Nancy just started to laugh. “You of all people…” and she continued to laugh.
“What do you mean, me of all people!”
Nancy caught her breath and looked her friend up and down. “You have this wonderful, slim, petite body. Your breasts are just the perfect size for your frame! I don’t know why you insist on frightening your victims when you could seduce them so easily!”
‘Damn it! It’s not the size! See how the left nipple turns out?”
“So.”
“So! So! Don’t you know anything about flying? When I hit top speed in my dive, the aerodynamics are such that my left nipple whistles!”
Nancy started laughing so hard that she fell out of her chair and rolled on the floor.
“It’s not funny! Half-way through my dive, they look up and see me! It ruins the surprise!”
Nancy finally caught her breath. “I just wished my little breasts could whistle. ‘Hello Sailor’.” And she started laughing again.
Jane was so furious that she couldn’t speak.

When Nancy finally stopped, she got back up and gave her friend a hug. “I know you are picky about the food you drink. I shouldn’t laugh, but you know how live women obsess over their breasts.”
“You didn’t have to laugh!”
“Oh come on! Admit it, it is a little funny.”
“Well…”
“Anyway, maybe you should wear a bra?”
Now Jane laughed. “A vampire in a bra? That would look so ridiculous! I want to frighten them, now make them laugh.”
“Well, how about a sports bra?”
“What? And flatten my perfect, perky breasts? Never!”
They both started to laugh until there were tears coming out of their eyes.

The rooster crowing in the distance stopped their laughter and they looked out the window at the lightening sky.
“Almost bedtime.”
“Yes. Let’s get ready.”
They blew out the few candles and walked into the next room of the abandoned house, pulled open the hidden trap door and descended the rickety staircase into the basement. Nancy’s too white skin appeared to glow in the darkness, while Jane’s natural bronze worked to hide her.
They each slipped into their clammy shrouds and climbed into their coffins.
“Good night Jane.”
“Goodnight Nancy.”

The coffin lids squeaked safely shut, just as the sun rose over the horizon.

Do you really want to hurt me?

Do you really want to make me cry?
Last week
Wednesday
I am not sure what I should say to my PT tomorrow.

‘If things don’t improve soon, I am going to have to ask you to stop helping me.’?

Oh, she does not like to hurt me, but she has to try. That’s the only way she can tell how my frozen shoulder is. Move it until it hurts a bit, then move it a little bit farther. She says that I am a little better.
The problem is, by the next day my whole arm hurts like hell. It moves a little more but hurts more.
Push the limits.

Last Monday I saw the Orthopedist. The idea was to get a nice shot of cortisone in my shoulder joint. Ease the inflammation and the pain. Regain some mobility. Maybe break loose the scar tissue that has built up in my shoulder joint.
I let him move my arm places that it did not want to go. Nothing tore, as far as I could tell, but it hurt like hell.
‘Yes, it looks like adhesive capsulitis.’ He said. ‘We can try a little cortisone.’
No, I did not look too closely at the 3inch (7.5 cm?) needle.
But the needle slipped into my shoulder joint easily, I am sure the lidocaine in mix helped.

But the little cocktail did little for my shoulder joint. I think the Orthopedist was disappointed it didn’t help much.
But the shoulder was a little better and he could move it around a lot more.
(Little did I know that I would pay for days.)

Ortho–doc thinks there might something else causing problems and will schedule an MRI. That might be fun, I have never had an MRI.

By the time Thursday rolled around, my arm was better and maybe a slight improvement from the shot.
The PT worked me over pretty well, but she was careful this time. She tends to wince when I jerk from the pain. She tells me that the cortisone can take up to a week to fully help.

A week later-
So I do my stretching exercises every day. Just a little each day. Keep some ability to move. I hope no one tries to dance with me at the party this Saturday. Or at least not until I have had enough beer to not feel my arm scream.

Which wife

So, last Friday night, Wonder-Girl was hosting a Bunko party with all her girl friends.(boys not allowed :-)
It was Bunko night and there were a dozen ladies there.

Anyway, Wonder-Girl shows them the picture of me and witch-girl on the broomstick, flying over the Chocolate Hills. They all thought it was neat. And then one of the ladies asked
"Who is the cute young lady on the broomstick with your husband?"
"Oh that's Shy, his Filipina wife." WG said.
The women that knew us just laughed, but a few of the ones that don't know me just kinda looked around, not knowing what to say.
I wished I could have been there to see some of their faces!

(Sure, some of you will ask, like Glinda of oz did, is she a good witch or a bad witch? All I can say is, it depends on how you treat her!

When I did get home, around 9:30, the party was ending. The Garcia sisters Aunt A & J-Gram (both in their 70’s) were admiring my kitchen floor and Aunt A said, “You did such a good job! Do you want to do my kitchen?”
“No.” I answered.
“Why not?”
“You can’t afford my rates.”
“Anyway,” Her sister J-Gram piped in, “He only does this stuff for his wife.”
“Well,” Aunt-A said, “How do you feel about having a second wife?”

One should stay away from the Garcia sisters!

Survivor

So I went in for my six-month check up on the skin cancer that was shaved off the back of my hand (you know, last Feb.)
Unfortunately, my female doctor moved to a different office, so I have some guy doctor that Wonder-Girl said was pretty nice.
Maybe that is fortunate, for I was sure that the female doctor wanted to do some more cutting.

I was pleasantly surprised when Repair-girl-two called me into the doctors' office. I used to work with her, three blocks from here when the WC office still existed. She was one of the two techs that I would come running to when I needed a board repaired and sent to a customer. She was a few years younger than me and just as cute as a button. (maybe cuter, but I digress)
Now she is a nurse in a doctors office.
With a huge smile on her face, she says ‘the doctor will see me now.’ (you know, there is nothing better than being greeted by a big, warm smile from a young lady. But again, I digress)
So we go into the exam room, asking how things are going.
She was pleasantly surprised that I still worked for T. One of the last, a survivor I guess.

“Do you want the whole body exam?” She asks while looking at my records on the computer screen. “Or just the upper torso?”

Now if any of you had worked with us back in the WC days, you would know that a question like that would lead to, at minimum, an “Oh Baby!” (especially when asked by a pretty young lady) And then someone would whack me on the arm.

I just smiled at her and she smiled back. We know what jokes would have been said, back in the days.
“Just need to have my hand checked, but the upper torso is a good idea.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, then the doc came in and she stepped out.

The good news is that there is no sign of the skin cancer reoccurring on my hand, but the doc warned me that there was a good chance of a reoccurrence somewhere else. You know the drill, sunscreen, wear clothes, lip balm.
He looked over my arms and face and said the rest of me looked okay.
Come back in six months for another checkup.

I said goodbye to RG#2 on the way out, got a nice hug and told her I’d see her again in six months.

I survived not having ‘trench work’ done on my hand. I am still at ‘T’, long after almost everyone else was let go.
There are so many things I have gotten past and over, removing a little spot on my hand seems trivial. Not something you survive.

Overboard

I think I had a good night. At least I don’t remember waking up a lot. I wake up a lot nowadays.
I have Frozen Shoulder. Not sure what caused it, my physical therapist doesn’t know what caused it.
But my shoulder joint sticks. If I force it, it hurts like hell. My therapist shows me way to force it.
So nice of her.
If I don’t keep moving it, it will get worse.

I sleep very hard, usually. Very little wakes me up. Once when I was younger, a woman walked on me in the middle of the night.
I never woke up.

I wake up now. Many times at night. It seems every time I move in bed, my arm hurts. Hurts enough to wake me up.
Messes up my sleep so much that I am tired and want to nap in the afternoon.
My boss would not like that.

I think it keeps me from dreaming like I usually do.
Except last night when I keep having the same dream over and over and over..

The dream starts with my friend and her friends are on a ferry, traveling between islands. Terrorists take over the ferry and everyone hears news reports about how they killed some people, including my friend.
But in my dreams I kept seeing her escape. She jumps off the ferry. She throws a life jacket overboard and jumps over the railing.
Sometimes she hits the side of the ferry, sometimes she doesn‘t.
Sometimes she curls up like a ball and makes a big splash when she hits the water.
Over and over, I dreamt the same thing.

Every time I woke up I knew that she was alive, but swimming in the ocean. Safe from the terrorists, but not safely on shore.
Except once when her head smashed against the side of the ferry.


I kept waking up last night, my arm hurt like a son-of-a-bitch and my friend was in trouble.

Not a good night.