It was a typical Saturday afternoon for a 4th grade boy growing up on Georgetown road in Nazareth, PA. I called Jan, who lived just 4 doors down from me and asked her if she wanted to ride her BMX bike with me down to “the dirt trails”. The dirt trails were a series of hills composed of dirt (appropriately enough) where the local kids of the block would ride their BMX bikes. It was conveniently located just 3 minutes down the street from the two of us and it was a place that we would frequent to be daredevils and ride our bikes up and down the hills, sometimes even riding fast enough to jump and get a little air with our rudimentary bikes. The area that was once filled with weeds, grass, dirt hills and rocks is now a flourishing development of houses and cul-de-sacs (like most rural areas of the Lehigh Valley right now) – but I digress.
This Saturday was a particularly beautiful day. The sun was shining on a cloudless sky and the temperature was a very pleasant 75 degrees. It was late afternoon and the ride down to the trails was great. The smell of freshly cut grass lingered in the summer air as the wind blew briskly against our faces. We had a few jumps and rode around together before I decided to be adventurous and explore the outskirts of the trails by myself. (We often liked to split up and then re-join one another after a few minutes). I rode back to the grassy area of the trails and I noticed a rather large, fat groundhog walking in the grass. Like most boys would have done, I decided to park my bike and investigate the animal further. I chose a nice grassy spot to put down my kickstand and I got off the bike to go take a closer look at this cute animal. It had a beautiful brown coat of fur on it and it reminded me of my good ‘ole friend ‘Rusty Brown’, a hand puppet in the shape of a dog that I went to bed with every night. As I approached the groundhog from behind it didn’t seem to mind my company, in fact, it was as if it didn’t care about me at all. Although I noticed it was acting a bit strangely – wobbling back and forth, pausing momentarily, then moving on slowly, then it made an about face and started walking towards my BMX bike. I continued to follow, and as it walked past my kickstand it approached the front tire. All of a sudden it started to bite the front tire, as if to sharpen its teeth. I couldn’t believe its behavior, for all the other groundhogs I had seen up until this day ran off at the first sight of me. Well, after a few seconds it turned and walked on. I followed it, and it paused momentarily to look at me, but again, didn’t seem to mind my company. I remember thinking to myself, “This is the friendliest groundhog I’ve ever seen (save for it biting my tire, but I thought that it was just trying to impress me with its ability to gnaw)”. Well, I’m not sure why, but an idea popped into my head --- “I wonder if I could pet it?” Mind you, this was not among RJ’s brighter moments in life, but nevertheless, there it was.
So I walked behind it, snuck up on it and went for my pet. Just one stroke on that velvety brown fur would have satisfied my desire and would have made for an amazing story to tell Jan when I rode back to join her. So I stepped forward, leaned in and reached out my hand…. All of a sudden it turned without warning and lunged at my right ankle. With vicious speed and agility this seemingly innocent animal turned into a baby Cujo! It sunk it’s newly sharpened teeth deep into my ankle, biting straight through my long, knee high grey tube socks (with the 3 red striped at top). I screamed as I lifted my leg in the air, trying to free it from the grasp of my nemesis. While flailing my leg in the air its teeth remained firmly imbedded into my muscle as its body flew around in the air! Its feet were literally off the ground as I continued to scream feverishly shaking my leg to dislodge this terrifying creature! After what seemed like minutes, I shook my leg in such a way that its body moved to the front of my muddy sneaker and I was able to kick it in its belly! This maneuver flung the animal about 10 feet away from me. It rolled over 3 times, then got up, shook its head, and continued to wobble on slowly as if the entire encounter had never happened. I screamed for help, “Jan! Jan where are you?!!!” as a stream of blood trickled down my leg, my tube sock absorbing the remaining saliva of this troubled groundhog. “Jan!!!!” After a minute she sped over to me, rapidly riding her BMX bike beyond what would be an acceptable speed but knowing from the sound of my girlish shriek that an emergency had transpired.
“Oh my God R.J., what happened?”
“I got bit by a groundhog!”
“WHAT???”
“I got bit by a groundhog!!!” I said again as she now noticed the bloody ankle and the hole in my sock.
“Get on your bike and ride home to your mom right away!”
“I can’t!” I explained, “The groundhog bit the air out of my tire!!!!”
“Here, take my BMX bike and go now, Hurry!”
“Okay.”
As I rode home with unprecedented speed my heart was beating a million miles a minute. What would I tell my mom? She was always telling us kids not to play down in these dirt trails and I always thought to myself, “What could possibly happen? A fall and a little scrape of my knee?” But now I had really done it. What would I tell her? How would I get out of this? Why did I try to pet that thing?
I arrived home and opened the screen door with panic – not bothering to put the kickstand on Jan’s bike up, but just letting it fall in the grass. My mom was on the phone with the mangled phone cord stretching all the way from the dining room to the kitchen…
“Mom, mom!”
“Hang on RJ I’m on the phone.”
“But mom...!”
“What is it R.J.?”
“I got bit by a groundhog!” just then I turned my ankle to reveal the blood soaked tube sock and the bite marks in the skin of my ankle.
“Oh my God…Margie I need to call you back! What happened?”
As I explained the story to my mom she could hardly believe it, but it was true! --- a groundhog snuck up on me while I wasn't looking and bit my ankle while I was on my bike! (I know, I know, it was a tough one to pull off.) So my mom did what any good mother would do in times of a medical emergency, she called the family Doctor…
Dr. Hoch had been practicing medicine for probably about 250 years in the quiet little town of Nazareth. He moved slow, had grey hair, glasses and was the town’s General Practitioner (back in the days when they actually had General Practitioners and not specialized Doctors). To that day he had performed well checks on me, given me the occasional shot, made me embarrassed when I had to ‘pull down my pants for him’ and kindly rewarded me with a lollipop after my encounters with him. He had gained the trust of my mom (as well as the mothers of most of the town’s kin) especially after he gave her such good advice just a few years prior to this incident when I stepped on a corn stalk the day I walked down to the creek barefoot --- “Take him to the ER!” he told my mom with brilliant deduction. So my mom dialed the number and spoke to him on the phone. He listened to what she had to say, and then with confidence replied something to the effect of, “Hmm…I see….well….put ice on it and call me in a week if it swells up.” My mother hung up the phone and undoubtedly followed his sound advice. “It’s going to be ok RJ.”
A week later my ankle started to turn black and blue and my mother called Dr. Hoch back to ensure that everything was still ok. He told her to just watch it and that the bruising should go down eventually. My mother, being a very well trained LPN herself, thought this was a little odd and decided to call Easton Hospital for a second opinion…
It was 10:15 a.m. when I got called on by Mrs. McMennamen in class. I sat behind a rather large girl and this was to my advantage as I could rest my head on my crossed arms and go unnoticed when I needed to snooze. But this morning my teacher was on her game. As I sprung up I noticed there was a little bit of drool dripping down the side of my chin. She said, “Well? What’s the answer RJ?” I thought to myself, “What’s the question Mrs. McMennamen?” – but being the Teacher’s Pet I didn’t want to tarnish my good standing with her, so instead I opened my mouth about to let my mind come up with something, when suddenly, I heard a chorus of “Ooooooohhhhh”s coming from my classmates. To my surprise, my mother walked in the door and marched directly over to the teacher’s desk. My eyes almost bulged out of their sockets, since not once in all the days of attending elementary school had this occurrence transpired. She started to talk softly to the teacher as Mrs. McMennamen looked over at me. “What had I done?” “Was I in trouble?” “Was there a death in the family?” (the only reason I knew that a parent would enter the classroom mid-morning). The teacher said, “RJ pack up your things and come here please.” Again with the “Oooooooohhhhhh”s! My mom told me to follow her out and so we left promptly.
“What’s wrong mom?”
“I called the hospital. They said that from the description I gave, it sounds like that groundhog had Rabies.”
“So what?”
“SO if it was Rabid, we need to get you the vaccine!”
“So, no big deal.”
“If we don’t get the vaccine in your system within a certain period of time (7 days), it could be very bad (death)”
“It’s only been just over 6 days since it happened though.”
So we went to the ER of Easton Hospital and thus began one of the most traumatic childhood experiences of my life. That day I received a plethora of shots. Mind you, these were no ordinary needles. The Rabies Vaccine du jour consisted of a 6 month long series of shots, given in needles that were several inches long a piece. Each one that pierced my deltoid seemed to penetrate all the way down to my elbow. I screamed in agony when each one was administered. I cried and dreaded driving to the hospital each time. I would look away and hold my mom’s hand as the nurse had to be the one to lift up my sleeve, rub the alcohol pad over my shoulder and then jab me fiercely with her spear of death. And it seemed like there was a brand new nursing student to do it each time. It sucked! That first day I got several in the back, buttocks and shoulders (it was the year AFTER they switched from giving them in the stomach – Thank God!). I had to get one shot a day for the first week, then one shot every other day for the next few weeks, then once every 3 days, then once a week, then once every 2 weeks, then once a month, then finally, I was gifted with the last shot on my birthday, December 19th… What a present!
The repercussions of this dramatic story are two-fold; first, Groundhog Day has a special meaning for me and my family since it was because of a groundhog that I almost died (had the vaccine been started just 1 day later). Consequently, I will always have to endure a slew of groundhog jokes from my relatives on that day as well. And second, I developed a deathly fear of needles, which almost prevented me from going to Medical School and becoming a Doctor. I hate needles, hate the smell of alcohol pads, hate getting blood drawn, hate giving needles to others, hate it, hate it, hate it! So you can imagine my friend John’s expression after he volunteered to be my guinea pig on the “Medical School Student’s First Blood Draw Lab”. He looked at me and said, “Uh,…do ya mind stopping your hand from shaking before you put that needle into my vein?” Needless to say, I didn’t tell him ‘The Groundhog Story’ until AFTER I successfully drew blood from him ….on my 8th attempt! LOL.
Aloha everyone! Well, I'm happy to report that my life has slowed down some since the holidays. In fact, I've actually taken time to do things like go to the beach, go to the movies (saw that King Kong-ish movie Cloverfield and loved it, despite its mixed reviews), host a few dinner parties (last night I had a great 'pau hana pupus and cocktails' get together) and even had time to dip into my cook books that I got for Christmas. I resolved that every month I'm going to select a different cuisine (Thai, Asian, Italian, Indian, etc.) and learn a bunch of dishes from that style (via cookbooks or Food Network). What a great way for me to practice my cooking and do something I really enjoy, in addition to hosting dinner parties where my friends can sample the cuisine, without having to go to culinary school - which is just not a possibility right now. Last night I made Chicken Curry Satay with Spicy Thai Peanut Sauce (Thai is the featured cuisine this month) and my Green Curry with Chicken and Basil is fantastic I have to say! So outside of that, I was entertaining the idea of having a roomate back in November and since then one of my friends that I've met since my return told me he needed a place to stay and since he's a great guy (and cooks), we seem to have a lot in common and he can pay me what I'm looking for, he's going to move in Feb 1st! Part of me doesn't want to give up my freedom, but I think the greater part realizes that there is an opportunity here to make a great friend, save a ton of money (which I have been blowing like its my job since I returned from Iraq) and live with someone who cooks like me. So his name is Tim and I'll keep you posted if it turns out to be a complete disaster or an amazing experience. I'm confident in the latter. So get this - last week I had a few people over for cocktails on a Saturday night and we were playing music and chatting. Mind you, it was late (about midnight or so), but the volume wasn't exceptionally loud. Anyway, I get a ring at my doorbell, and my neighbor, this crusty 70ish year old drunk, starts pointing his finger in my face and yelling, "If you don't keep the noise down I'm going to call the cops!! There's no reason for you to be making this much racket at 1 am!" Can you believe that this was our first meeting? So I was thinking to myself, "Oh hell no!" (Mind you I had a few cocktails). So I raised a finger in the air and said, "First of all...I do NOT appreciate being yelled at in your tone. SECOND, if you ask me politely like a normal human being, I would be more than happy to turn the music down and ask my guests to keep quiet, BUT I DO NOT respond well to people yelling in my face!" So he turned around and shut the door. Well, as it turns out, he e-mails one of the building managers about me without my knowledge. So last week I was leaving for work one sunny Waikiki morning, when as I'm waiting for the elevator, his door opens... Out comes this adorable little Asian woman of about 50 years. She greets me with a "Hello, Good Morning!" and a smile. I struck up a chat with her and discovered that she owns the apartment, and he husband passed away last year and the old crusty guy was one of her husband's friends who helped with the funeral. Since then he hasn't left and she gave me the distinct impression that she felt it was long overdue for him to say Adieu. So as the elevator reaches the bottom, the doors open and this 72 year old Scottish guy says with a heavy accent to me "Don't I know you?" I replied "I don't think so." Then he turns to the Asian woman and says "Hey - did you ever get that situation straightened out with the noisy neighbor of yours?" I was like "I'm the neighbor!" lol. He replied "You're in trouble." But I followed up by stating that the man she was living with was downright rude, yelling at me, and he handled the situation very poorly. The Scott then said "I think he drinks a lot. Don't take it personally." (One of the Four Agreements if you've read that book). So I gave the Asian woman my phone number and said that if she ever has a problem in the future, please call me and I'd be happy to do what I can to resolve it. Just then the Scott asked me what I do for a living (he saw me in uniform with a stethoscope in hand). When I told him I was a Doctor and that I liked Star Trek (it just kind of came up - don't ask me how), I became his new best friend. So bottom line is - my drunken neighbor can (as my Grandmother would say) - pound sand up his ass for all I care! Angelina has a cold! In case you don't know, Angelina is the name I gave my beautiful car, the Acura TL Type S. She's been coughing and running at less than peak efficiency because I accidentally put low Octane Gasoline in her last week instead of Premium (91) as I was instructed. So she's a little sick. Sorry Angelina. First Do No Harm is my motto and I got her sick, but she's almost cleared the infection and I'll soon fill her empty tank up with a full tank of the good stuff. And finally, as for my relationship issues. Well, I'll sum it up Horoscope Style, how about that: Ok, Dear Sagitarius, you've realized that you still care very very much for your ex, but is it too soon to forgive and forget? Heed the advice of your friends and proceed with extreme caution - don't forget you've been in this honeymoon phase before. Are things truly different this time? Be smart, take it slow. Its okay to enjoy the wonderful feelings you're having, just don't fall head over heels - keep both feet on the ground! (That about sums it up) That's it for now gang. I can't believe my mom actually posted a comment - after all this time! You never cease to amaze me mom!!! HERE IS A GUIDE TO THE PHOTOS: Friends Billy and Jacintha followed by shots of my hike up to Diamond Head last weekend!
