Hospice Care and Hookers

21 Aug

It is 5:30 am MTS and I’m already feeling bitter.

 
This a story that will be funny for my friends and, for me, in about 2 weeks.  Here’s what happened.    
 
One of my friends, Tony, is currently dying of lung cancer.  Before selling his soul to I-banking, he spent years in Seminary before he got kicked out because he had sex with too many nuns.  
 
Please pay attention to the adverb “too.”  
 
A tall, thin, and wild Southern kid, every month he set aside 3k for “fun.”  He was the best person to serve in an office with and, if you loved your liver, kidneys, and self-respect, the worst person to go out with after work.  I have tons of stories about this guy, most of which I will only tell under the influence of truth serum and water-boarding, but that’s beside the point.   
 
Undeniable brilliant, he has the emotional maturity of a horny 12 year old with maturity problems.  Despite being a workaholic with an addictive personality, women were unable to resist him.  This brings me to the conversation which woke me up at 3 am this morning.  
 
Tony: “You up?”
Me: “I better not be.”
Tony: “Remember how we were discussing if I lived a good life or not?” 
 
[Tony’s Seminary education gave him a background in Greek philosophy.  Other than me, he’s the only other person I know who has the read all of Aristotle, Plato, and all the classic Greek plays…we always started on Philosophy at lunch, but he steered our discussions toward sex.]
 
Me: “No, but I remember you talking to me about how many women you had sex with…”
Tony: “Same thing!”
 
For the past month or so, Tony has been trying to figure how women he made love to.  The number has slowly escalated from impressive to disgusting to disturbing.  
 
Me: “What’s the count?”  [Me still trying to wake up.]
Tony: “I think I finally got the final number.  It’s 274.”
Me: “You’re sick.  How many fatherless children do you have?”
Tony: “I’m counting threesomes as just one girl, though.”
Me: “…how is lung cancer killing you and not an STD?”
Tony: “I don’t have time for this.  You are going to love this story.”
 
It turns out Tony decided he wanted to have sex with 275.  Recently having been moved into his own home to die, he has full-time hospice nurses caring for him and, when he arrived at the 274 lady number, he wanted to reach for 275.  
 
Tony: “I’ve always liked numbers that could be divided by 5.”  
 
Now, Tony would lose a handsome man contest to the Phantom of the Opera: he has no hair, no eyebrows, has lost all color from his cheeks, and is down to 123 pounds.  He’s 6’3″.  Bedridden, the only way to reach his goal is to get a “lady of the night.”  Naturally, he asked one of his hospice nurses to go score him a hooker.  
 
It gets worse.
 
The very nice and charming hospice nurse–who is a grandmother (she showed me pictures of the grandchildren when I came to visit him)–decided to go out and get him one.   
 
It was either through Craiglist or on Colfax, but the result ended up with her being “pinched” by the Denver police for solicitation. 
 
It gets worse.
 
This isn’t her first solicitation arrest.  This has happened to her…twice before.  I have a new respect for hospice nurses: that’s dedication to the job; I’m impressed.  
 
Me: “I think you need to find…someone…just a little bit better at this…”
Tony: “Yeah….Well…I’m paying for her legal defense…” [Tony is a very nice man; a Southern gentleman in every sense of the word.]
Me: “We can only hope the judge has a sense of humor…this doesn’t sound like a winning legal argument to me.”
Tony [ignoring me]: “And, I’m flying in that gal when we worked together…” [I first met her on my third day, I thought she was his daughter; I introduced myself by saying, “Oh, it’s so great your are coming to see your Dad!” Tony took me out to lunch and explained my fax pas…this is how we became friends.]
 
Me: “I thought she was retired…” [Tony got depressed when she left the profession.]
Tony: “Yes…but, I put her through Swathmore and, well, she owes me…”
Me: “Tony…I get you got the dead-thing going for you, but it’s 4:30 in the morning, and despair will be my mistress for today.”
Tony: “If my hospice nurse can’t pick her up at the airport, can you?”
 
Right now, I’m wondering, why don’t I have any other friends?
 
Further Bulletins as Events Warrant
 
C
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