Barb says it's the screams that wake her up. For some reason, around midnight, the ordeal is set worse. Perhaps my body relaxes, and a tumour is freed to do its evil will, blocking breath and squeezing out life (poetic description, eh?).
I say that screaming in pain is un-manly. I am more giving vocal outlet to a stern displeasure.
And she sits up with me, until the tide washes out once again.
And thus, for this and for so much more, she deserves a tribute.
I need a nickname for my wife,
one to truly fit her,
so at risk to limb and life
I’m going to call her ‘Critter’.
She wanders where the wild things be,
not shy, not in the least;
saints and demons turn and flee
because she is a beast.
The ground, it shakes beneath her feet,
the very mountains give applause;
when she’s at God’s judgement seat,
her presence will give pause.
He’ll pass a hand across His brow;
“I guess you’re taking over now?”
I was going to use Chris deBrugh's Lady in Red as the musical theme, but went with Manic, instead, fom the movie Flashdance (click here if your device doesn't show it). Barb looks a lot like Jennifer Beals, and there's a Pit Bull in the video that looks like our Roscoe.