"Astle, did anyone ever tell you that you are a worthless bleeper? You are so bleeping stupid that I am convinced you don't know your right hand from your left...Duh!" My old high school chum Arthole was an obnoxious bastard to say the least. "Jesus, I will be married with five kids before you get that thing changed. What is wrong with you boy? Are you mentally challenged?" The more he needled at me the more nervous I became. "OK Maestro! If you're so bleeping smart, why don't you do it?" I then threw the wrench I was holding at him. The task of changing the starter in my 1960 Ford Falcon station wagon had become more than I bargained for.
"I am positive that you are destined to be a rocket scientist one of these days Astle. That's if you can ever manage to graduate from high school." Listening to Arthole flap his mouth while he replaced the starter in my car was driving me bonkers. But I didn't want to piss him off. I needed the starter replaced and he was the guy to do it. "Einstein" he called me, "All you have to do is unscrew the screws, take the old starter off, put the new starter on and then screw the old screws back in. You would think a guy who is destined to be a rocket scientist would know that...Duh!"
I started the car after he finished and it purred like a kitty. He then closed the hood and said, "It's no wonder why you don't have a girlfriend. You are so bleeping stupid, you wouldn't know what to do with one anyways." The starter was replaced and the car was running. What did I need him for? "Bleep you Arthole!" I yelled as I locked the passenger side door, "Who's the idiot now? Bleep you!" I then threw the car in drive and sped away, leaving him covered in a cloud of dust and rocks.
"Get back here you bleeping bleephole! I am going to kick your ass! Astle get back here!" I kept stopping the car at hundred yard intervals. Once he got five yards or so from the car I would take off again. After the third time he became angry and threw a rock at the car, shattering the back windshield. For the next six months I drove around town with a couple of garbage bags plastered over the damage. Here's the part of the story I think is funny. When I explained to my dad what had happened to the back windshield, he looked at me, shook his head and said, "Arthole is right about you - you are never going to be a rocket scientist."
Monday, June 30, 2014
Saturday, June 28, 2014
The Madison High brain surgeons club.
"Astle, do you want to know when the best time to bleep a chick is?" It was fun being sixteen in small town Kansas. Not a care in the world. Things were so much easier back than. "I always thought it was any!" I stated. My old high school chum Arthole and I had some high level intelligent talks when we were young. "Astle," he piped - "The best time to bleep a chick is when she is pregnant - that way you don't have to worry about getting her pregnant."
A double entendre is a literary device that can be defined as a figure of speech that might have multiple meanings or could be understood in two different ways. "Arthole," I said with a puzzling look on my face, "Let me make sure I am understanding what you just said. You are telling me that the best time to bleep a girl is when she is already pregnant. Because you can't get her pregnant again because she is already pregnant? Am I understanding you correctly?"
Further clarification of his statement was required, and he provided it. "That's what I am saying exactly," he blurts. "It makes sense. Think about it - it is impossible to get a girl pregnant when she is already pregnant. So if she accuses you of making her pregnant. You can use the excuse that she was already pregnant when you bleeped her." A couple of Ivy Leaguers we were not! I did have one last thing to clarify before we put the conversation to rest. "Arthole, would the girl who is pregnant that you would be bleeping already be pregnant because of you? Or would you be bleeping a girl who is pregnant by another guy's seed. Because if you are the guy who got her pregnant in the first place. I mean, the damage is already done - Right? But if you are bleeping her after someone else got her pregnant. Then I can sort of see what you are thinking in that twisted little mind of yours." He looks at me after the query; scratches his head, raises his eyebrows, scratches his head again and says, "This conversation is too confusing. Maybe you are better off wearing a condom no matter what." I nodded in agreement.
A double entendre is a literary device that can be defined as a figure of speech that might have multiple meanings or could be understood in two different ways. "Arthole," I said with a puzzling look on my face, "Let me make sure I am understanding what you just said. You are telling me that the best time to bleep a girl is when she is already pregnant. Because you can't get her pregnant again because she is already pregnant? Am I understanding you correctly?"
Further clarification of his statement was required, and he provided it. "That's what I am saying exactly," he blurts. "It makes sense. Think about it - it is impossible to get a girl pregnant when she is already pregnant. So if she accuses you of making her pregnant. You can use the excuse that she was already pregnant when you bleeped her." A couple of Ivy Leaguers we were not! I did have one last thing to clarify before we put the conversation to rest. "Arthole, would the girl who is pregnant that you would be bleeping already be pregnant because of you? Or would you be bleeping a girl who is pregnant by another guy's seed. Because if you are the guy who got her pregnant in the first place. I mean, the damage is already done - Right? But if you are bleeping her after someone else got her pregnant. Then I can sort of see what you are thinking in that twisted little mind of yours." He looks at me after the query; scratches his head, raises his eyebrows, scratches his head again and says, "This conversation is too confusing. Maybe you are better off wearing a condom no matter what." I nodded in agreement.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
The Snack Shop.
I received a message from cousin Sally yesterday. The message read, "Your Village Idiot of Las Vegas blog is vulgar." She also wanted to know - "Where I picked up my potty mouth from?" For as long as I can remember cousin Sally has sported a holier than thou attitude. The sensible thing for me to do would be to simply ignore her. Which I plan to do after this post is complete. But she did specifically ask where I formed my potty mouth. The answer is simple: The Snack Shop in Madison, Kansas.
The Snack Shop was an establishment of a bygone era. It was a place where a kid could be a kid. It sported three or four video games, a couple of eating booths, a soda machine, hamburgers & French fries and an array of the finest characters Madison, Kansas had to offer. If Peter Pan wanted to grow up and be Dice Clay - the Snack Shop would have been the place for him.
"You stupid bleepsucker! Bleep you! Give me another bleeping quarter. Donkey Kong you suck bleeps!" Hanging out in the Snack Shop was like watching a never ending Richard Pryor stand up routine. "Astle, you are a bleephead! You bleeping bleephole!" The leader of the Snack Shop potty mouth gang was none other than my good friend Arthur Spotter, better known as Arthole. If anyone in the tri county area deserved to have their mouth washed out with soap - it was him.
"Arthole, why do you swear so much?" I remember asking him that exact question many years ago. And I still remember his answer like it was yesterday - "Because I bleeping like to. So bleep you!" Arthole wasn't the only guy in town who needed his mouth washed out with soap. There was my buddy Pecker (his real name was Peter) but everyone called him Pecker. As far as I know, he still holds the Madison record for most swear words spurted in a minute...believe it or not, such a contest existed at the Snack Shop.
There were many other characters from the Snack Shop who influenced me as well. But for posterity's sake, I will refrain from mentioning them. My goal was to simply answer cousin Sally's question as pertains to where I learned to talk (vulgar). The answer is the Snack Shop in Madison, Kansas.
The Snack Shop was an establishment of a bygone era. It was a place where a kid could be a kid. It sported three or four video games, a couple of eating booths, a soda machine, hamburgers & French fries and an array of the finest characters Madison, Kansas had to offer. If Peter Pan wanted to grow up and be Dice Clay - the Snack Shop would have been the place for him.
"You stupid bleepsucker! Bleep you! Give me another bleeping quarter. Donkey Kong you suck bleeps!" Hanging out in the Snack Shop was like watching a never ending Richard Pryor stand up routine. "Astle, you are a bleephead! You bleeping bleephole!" The leader of the Snack Shop potty mouth gang was none other than my good friend Arthur Spotter, better known as Arthole. If anyone in the tri county area deserved to have their mouth washed out with soap - it was him.
"Arthole, why do you swear so much?" I remember asking him that exact question many years ago. And I still remember his answer like it was yesterday - "Because I bleeping like to. So bleep you!" Arthole wasn't the only guy in town who needed his mouth washed out with soap. There was my buddy Pecker (his real name was Peter) but everyone called him Pecker. As far as I know, he still holds the Madison record for most swear words spurted in a minute...believe it or not, such a contest existed at the Snack Shop.
There were many other characters from the Snack Shop who influenced me as well. But for posterity's sake, I will refrain from mentioning them. My goal was to simply answer cousin Sally's question as pertains to where I learned to talk (vulgar). The answer is the Snack Shop in Madison, Kansas.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
The nine lives of Scott Edwards...Part 7
There is a certain camaraderie that one finds growing up in a small town. With that said, many years have passed since I have called one home. In a way, I still long for it. Well, after researching and writing a semi-autobiographical account of the experiences Scott endured as a youth. I am going out on a limb and saying this. "A big part of why Scott is still alive and kicking to this very day can be chalked up to a few things. The first is luck, the second is care, the third and most important, family and friends - the kinship of sorts that can only be found in small towns.
Summing up Scott's experiences as a youth in just a few blog posts proved challenging. The story deserves a book versus a blog style of five paragraphs at a time. I hadn't seen or heard of Scott for many years before we reconnected on Face Book. Now when I say this, the intention is not to come across as a heartless bastard or such. I am just being honest. Most assumed Scott would be six feet under before he reached his twenties. Back then, if you would have asked me to lay odds on whether he would have made it to forty...honestly, I don't even think Las Vegas would lay odds that high. My take on Scott nowadays is a complete reversal of how I felt when we were youths. My guess is that he will outlive us all.
Summing up Scott's experiences as a youth in just a few blog posts proved challenging. The story deserves a book versus a blog style of five paragraphs at a time. I hadn't seen or heard of Scott for many years before we reconnected on Face Book. Now when I say this, the intention is not to come across as a heartless bastard or such. I am just being honest. Most assumed Scott would be six feet under before he reached his twenties. Back then, if you would have asked me to lay odds on whether he would have made it to forty...honestly, I don't even think Las Vegas would lay odds that high. My take on Scott nowadays is a complete reversal of how I felt when we were youths. My guess is that he will outlive us all.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
The nine lives of Scott Edwards...Part 6
"Well they showed you a statue - told you to pray. They built you a temple and locked you away. Ah! But they never told you the price it would pay. The things that you might have done.... Only the good die young."
Billy Joel - Only The Good Die Young
It had been eight grueling years since the Grim Reaper and Scott Edwards had first made acquaintance. To his family and him, it felt like a hundred. At the still tender age of twenty two. Most assumed his dalliance with the Reaper was at its end. It wasn't! The Reaper had grown incensed with Scott. He had tried and tried to make Scott his and was rebuffed every time. "This time nothing is going to stand in my way. I will get this bastard if it's the last thing I do." The Reaper's thoughts were as firm as ever as he packed his bags for yet another visit to the young Mr. Edwards.
"Let's get something to grub on. I am starving." It started as just another typical Saturday night in small town Kansas. The scene was familiar, four guys cruising the main drag, killing time, yelling at girls and then one of them decided they were hungry. "Where do you want to eat?" the driver quipped to his hungry passenger. "Let's go to Taco Hell. I am broke and the eats are cheap." Scott and the other passenger in the backseat suggested McDonald's, but in the end they were overruled. Taco Bell is located on the south side of 6th street in Emporia. Scott and his friends were traveling west on 6th and were going to have to turn across traffic in order to get there. The turn proved tragic.
As I stated earlier, most had believed the affair between Scott and the Reaper to be over. Unfortunately, it was now getting ready to reach its highest level! "Jesus Christ, watch out!" It happened in an instant. A drunken eighteen year old had slammed his Camaro into the side of the car Scott was riding in. "I'm going to kill you! You hurt my friends!" The driver of the car Scott was in fell into an instant rage when he looked into the back seat and saw his two cohorts motionless. Unfortunately, his frantic yells were a mere whisper to Scott as he faded in and out of consciousness. All the near misses, all the treatments, all of the heart ache, all of the surviving. None of that mattered to The Reaper. "I can't find a pulse!" When the paramedics arrived Scott and his friend in the backseat were trapped in the wreckage. Neither were breathing. "There it goes. He is breathing again." When the paramedic lifted Scott's head, he resumed breathing. The two were pulled from the wreckage and subsequently air-lifted to a hospital in Wichita. After a lengthy period of rehabilitation, Scott was released.
Just like that, Scott Edwards had used up another one of his nine lives. But things were different this time, much different. The Reaper didn't walk away empty handed that fateful night. Scott's friend, the one who was sitting next to him in the backseat, had absorbed the ultimate brunt of the crash and ended up passing. The waste of a promising young life, by such a selfish act, would loom over Scott and the rest of Madison for many years to come.
Billy Joel - Only The Good Die Young
It had been eight grueling years since the Grim Reaper and Scott Edwards had first made acquaintance. To his family and him, it felt like a hundred. At the still tender age of twenty two. Most assumed his dalliance with the Reaper was at its end. It wasn't! The Reaper had grown incensed with Scott. He had tried and tried to make Scott his and was rebuffed every time. "This time nothing is going to stand in my way. I will get this bastard if it's the last thing I do." The Reaper's thoughts were as firm as ever as he packed his bags for yet another visit to the young Mr. Edwards.
"Let's get something to grub on. I am starving." It started as just another typical Saturday night in small town Kansas. The scene was familiar, four guys cruising the main drag, killing time, yelling at girls and then one of them decided they were hungry. "Where do you want to eat?" the driver quipped to his hungry passenger. "Let's go to Taco Hell. I am broke and the eats are cheap." Scott and the other passenger in the backseat suggested McDonald's, but in the end they were overruled. Taco Bell is located on the south side of 6th street in Emporia. Scott and his friends were traveling west on 6th and were going to have to turn across traffic in order to get there. The turn proved tragic.
As I stated earlier, most had believed the affair between Scott and the Reaper to be over. Unfortunately, it was now getting ready to reach its highest level! "Jesus Christ, watch out!" It happened in an instant. A drunken eighteen year old had slammed his Camaro into the side of the car Scott was riding in. "I'm going to kill you! You hurt my friends!" The driver of the car Scott was in fell into an instant rage when he looked into the back seat and saw his two cohorts motionless. Unfortunately, his frantic yells were a mere whisper to Scott as he faded in and out of consciousness. All the near misses, all the treatments, all of the heart ache, all of the surviving. None of that mattered to The Reaper. "I can't find a pulse!" When the paramedics arrived Scott and his friend in the backseat were trapped in the wreckage. Neither were breathing. "There it goes. He is breathing again." When the paramedic lifted Scott's head, he resumed breathing. The two were pulled from the wreckage and subsequently air-lifted to a hospital in Wichita. After a lengthy period of rehabilitation, Scott was released.
Just like that, Scott Edwards had used up another one of his nine lives. But things were different this time, much different. The Reaper didn't walk away empty handed that fateful night. Scott's friend, the one who was sitting next to him in the backseat, had absorbed the ultimate brunt of the crash and ended up passing. The waste of a promising young life, by such a selfish act, would loom over Scott and the rest of Madison for many years to come.
Monday, June 27, 2011
The nine lives of Scott Edwards...Part 5
"Well, since my baby left me, I found a new place to dwell. It's down at the end of lonely street at Heartbreak Hotel. You make me so lonely baby. I get so lonely, I could die."
Elvis Presley - Heartbreak Hotel
The Grim Reaper and Scott were now six years into their game, and even though the Reaper had failed in his previous attempts to take him. He had succeeded in leaving a path of destruction in his wake that resembled the plight of a dead man. "Scott, I love you and I always will, but things are so much different now." The plan was simple, after graduation Scott and his high school sweetheart Lizzie were going to attend college together and most likely get married after. The Reaper altered that course! "It is time for me to move on. Things have become too hard between the two of us. You will always be a part of me." Lizzie was in her second year of college while Scott was cooped up in Madison recovering from his illness. She had stood by him through all his misfortunes, but now it was time for her to go her own way. As she was leaving, she turned to him and said one last thing. "Scott, I wish nothing but the best for you and I want you to know, no matter what course our lives take. I will always love and care for you."
She was his first love and those are always the hardest to overcome. The years of fighting off the Reaper had taken its physical toll on him, but the pain he was feeling after Lizzie left him was unimaginable. He loved her and she loved him, that was never the question. It was circumstances beyond both of their controls that drove a wedge between them. By now he was use to the pain cancer had caused him, but the agony he was feeling this time was different. Maybe it wasn't going to be the cancer that killed him in the end. Maybe it was going to be the loneliness it caused, or a broken heart.
Despite the breakup, his physical condition continued to improve. His family decided to take a long awaited vacation to his Aunt's house in Texas. Upon arrival in the Lone Star State, everything seemed normal. Scott and his family had just finished a day at the beach and upon their return to his Aunt's. Things went wickedly awry. "Scott, are you OK?" His mother, who long ago developed a sixth sense for his well-being could tell something wasn't right. "I must have ate something that didn't agree with me. I am going to lie down for a while and see if that helps me feel better," he told his mom.
The Grim Reaper had wasted enough time with the young Mr. Edwards. So much in fact that he decided to follow the Edwards clan to Texas in order to finally finish him off. "I can't find his pulse!" The seizures were something new, and then they stopped suddenly. It was now time for the Reaper to make his final move. "Please Scott, come back to us. Don't let it beat you." His mother was hovering over his limp body whispering words of encouragement to him. "You can do it my love. Come back to us," the whispering was now accompanied by a stream of her tears dripping across his cheek. "He's breathing again!" Scott's father yelled. An ambulance showed up shortly afterwards and whisked Scott to the hospital. The doctor's prognosis was encephalitis-condition that occurs with a weakened immune system-somewhat common with a lot of cancer patients. Fortunately, the medical experts were able to bring his condition under control and Scott was released from the hospital a few weeks after the incident.
At twenty years of age; Scott Edwards had been diagnosed with cancer three times, received two bone marrow transplants, survived a bout of encephalitis and lost the love of his life. When he returned to Kansas from his near fatal trip to Texas, he was a changed man forever. All he wanted to do was continue his college studies and proceed with life. Well, the Grim Reaper is afforded the luxury of wearing many hats. He was growing tired of Scott's ilk. The next time they were to meet, he would be disguised as a drunken eighteen year old in a souped-up camaro.
Elvis Presley - Heartbreak Hotel
The Grim Reaper and Scott were now six years into their game, and even though the Reaper had failed in his previous attempts to take him. He had succeeded in leaving a path of destruction in his wake that resembled the plight of a dead man. "Scott, I love you and I always will, but things are so much different now." The plan was simple, after graduation Scott and his high school sweetheart Lizzie were going to attend college together and most likely get married after. The Reaper altered that course! "It is time for me to move on. Things have become too hard between the two of us. You will always be a part of me." Lizzie was in her second year of college while Scott was cooped up in Madison recovering from his illness. She had stood by him through all his misfortunes, but now it was time for her to go her own way. As she was leaving, she turned to him and said one last thing. "Scott, I wish nothing but the best for you and I want you to know, no matter what course our lives take. I will always love and care for you."
She was his first love and those are always the hardest to overcome. The years of fighting off the Reaper had taken its physical toll on him, but the pain he was feeling after Lizzie left him was unimaginable. He loved her and she loved him, that was never the question. It was circumstances beyond both of their controls that drove a wedge between them. By now he was use to the pain cancer had caused him, but the agony he was feeling this time was different. Maybe it wasn't going to be the cancer that killed him in the end. Maybe it was going to be the loneliness it caused, or a broken heart.
Despite the breakup, his physical condition continued to improve. His family decided to take a long awaited vacation to his Aunt's house in Texas. Upon arrival in the Lone Star State, everything seemed normal. Scott and his family had just finished a day at the beach and upon their return to his Aunt's. Things went wickedly awry. "Scott, are you OK?" His mother, who long ago developed a sixth sense for his well-being could tell something wasn't right. "I must have ate something that didn't agree with me. I am going to lie down for a while and see if that helps me feel better," he told his mom.
The Grim Reaper had wasted enough time with the young Mr. Edwards. So much in fact that he decided to follow the Edwards clan to Texas in order to finally finish him off. "I can't find his pulse!" The seizures were something new, and then they stopped suddenly. It was now time for the Reaper to make his final move. "Please Scott, come back to us. Don't let it beat you." His mother was hovering over his limp body whispering words of encouragement to him. "You can do it my love. Come back to us," the whispering was now accompanied by a stream of her tears dripping across his cheek. "He's breathing again!" Scott's father yelled. An ambulance showed up shortly afterwards and whisked Scott to the hospital. The doctor's prognosis was encephalitis-condition that occurs with a weakened immune system-somewhat common with a lot of cancer patients. Fortunately, the medical experts were able to bring his condition under control and Scott was released from the hospital a few weeks after the incident.
At twenty years of age; Scott Edwards had been diagnosed with cancer three times, received two bone marrow transplants, survived a bout of encephalitis and lost the love of his life. When he returned to Kansas from his near fatal trip to Texas, he was a changed man forever. All he wanted to do was continue his college studies and proceed with life. Well, the Grim Reaper is afforded the luxury of wearing many hats. He was growing tired of Scott's ilk. The next time they were to meet, he would be disguised as a drunken eighteen year old in a souped-up camaro.
Friday, June 24, 2011
The nine lives of Scott Edwards...Part 4
"I wake up every morning at nine and grab for the morning paper. Then I look at the obituary page. If my name is not in it, I get up."
- Benjamin Franklin
It was the summer of 1990 and the future for Scott Edwards appeared bright. He had just completed his Senior year of high school; his girlfriend of three years and he were discussing which college they wanted to attend; most importantly, the Grim Reaper was nowhere to be found! Unfortunately, like so many other times in his life, things were about to take a turn for the worse.
He had seen the look before, the doctors' look of sorrow that is. "Scott, I am so sorry to tell you this, but you had a relapse and you're going to need another bone marrow transplant." His monthly doctor's appointment was supposed to be routine, and why not. He had already beaten the Reaper twice, the game between the two of them was over in his eyes. To the chagrin of many, the Reaper wasn't through with him, not by any stretch.
It seems almost out of a bad horror movie, the date his second bone marrow transplant was to take place, that is. Friday, December 13th, 1990 is a day that will forever be ingrained in Scott's memory. "Why in the hell did they have to schedule my surgery on the Reaper's favorite day of the year?" He made this statement to his mother moments before the nurse was getting ready to wheel him into the operating room. "Scott, you will beat this! You have already done it a couple of times and you will do it again! Just remember that all of us love you!" Scott's mother Karen was frantic. The Edwards clan had been down this road before, but it was different this time. The insurance money was basically depleted from all of his previous treatments. Long gone was the specialist from the Mayo clinic. This go around would be performed locally; it's not that his current surgeon wasn't skillful, but it wasn't the Mayo clinic and everyone knew it.
The second transplant proved treacherous for the young Mr. Edwards. When he finally woke from the procedure, everything was amiss to him. "Scott, can you hear me? Scott it's your mother. Please say something." The comforting voice of his mother was an echo to him. His eyesight was filled with images that he would later describe to me as flying cockroaches, the pain was excruciating. "Scott you're going to make it. Hang in there, the doctor is on his way." His mother's echoes were of little solace to him at this point. The Grim Reaper finally had his boot on Scott's throat. The only thing left for him to do was apply the necessary amount of pressure.
For one reason or another, the Reaper decided to let him go. Most believe that he got distracted, or maybe he had a previously scheduled appointment that he was late for. After spending the next two weeks recovering from the Reaper's grip, he was discharged. As his mother pulled into the driveway of their home, he couldn't help but crack a smile when he saw a couple of his schoolboy chums waiting anxiously to cheer him up. For a while it worked, he actually felt happy, but it turned out being a false sense. "Jesus, watch out. I am going to throw up." He then jumped off the couch, darted between his family and friends and opened the door to the bathroom. The vomiting was intense. When he finally finished, he looked down at the muddle and noticed that pieces of his intestines were floating on the water. Scott Edwards was eighteen years and eight months of age at the time. If the Grim Reaper was going to have his way, he was never going to see nineteen.
- Benjamin Franklin
It was the summer of 1990 and the future for Scott Edwards appeared bright. He had just completed his Senior year of high school; his girlfriend of three years and he were discussing which college they wanted to attend; most importantly, the Grim Reaper was nowhere to be found! Unfortunately, like so many other times in his life, things were about to take a turn for the worse.
He had seen the look before, the doctors' look of sorrow that is. "Scott, I am so sorry to tell you this, but you had a relapse and you're going to need another bone marrow transplant." His monthly doctor's appointment was supposed to be routine, and why not. He had already beaten the Reaper twice, the game between the two of them was over in his eyes. To the chagrin of many, the Reaper wasn't through with him, not by any stretch.
It seems almost out of a bad horror movie, the date his second bone marrow transplant was to take place, that is. Friday, December 13th, 1990 is a day that will forever be ingrained in Scott's memory. "Why in the hell did they have to schedule my surgery on the Reaper's favorite day of the year?" He made this statement to his mother moments before the nurse was getting ready to wheel him into the operating room. "Scott, you will beat this! You have already done it a couple of times and you will do it again! Just remember that all of us love you!" Scott's mother Karen was frantic. The Edwards clan had been down this road before, but it was different this time. The insurance money was basically depleted from all of his previous treatments. Long gone was the specialist from the Mayo clinic. This go around would be performed locally; it's not that his current surgeon wasn't skillful, but it wasn't the Mayo clinic and everyone knew it.
The second transplant proved treacherous for the young Mr. Edwards. When he finally woke from the procedure, everything was amiss to him. "Scott, can you hear me? Scott it's your mother. Please say something." The comforting voice of his mother was an echo to him. His eyesight was filled with images that he would later describe to me as flying cockroaches, the pain was excruciating. "Scott you're going to make it. Hang in there, the doctor is on his way." His mother's echoes were of little solace to him at this point. The Grim Reaper finally had his boot on Scott's throat. The only thing left for him to do was apply the necessary amount of pressure.
For one reason or another, the Reaper decided to let him go. Most believe that he got distracted, or maybe he had a previously scheduled appointment that he was late for. After spending the next two weeks recovering from the Reaper's grip, he was discharged. As his mother pulled into the driveway of their home, he couldn't help but crack a smile when he saw a couple of his schoolboy chums waiting anxiously to cheer him up. For a while it worked, he actually felt happy, but it turned out being a false sense. "Jesus, watch out. I am going to throw up." He then jumped off the couch, darted between his family and friends and opened the door to the bathroom. The vomiting was intense. When he finally finished, he looked down at the muddle and noticed that pieces of his intestines were floating on the water. Scott Edwards was eighteen years and eight months of age at the time. If the Grim Reaper was going to have his way, he was never going to see nineteen.
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