In January of 2001, my wife went into labor. I didn't have insurance. Therefore, she was forced to give birth in a local charity hospital sponsored by a university. The vast majority of the doctors were medical students. But I thought nothing of it. These guys were experts when it came to patching up knife wounds and bullet holes, so how hard could delivering a baby be? We were in good hands.
Life was wonderful. This fateful night also featured the NCAA championship game between Florida State and Oklahoma. I watched the contest as my wife waited for our eldest son to pop out of her vagina. Here's the problem. He never came. Even back then, Ken was a stubborn son-of-a-bitch.
Consequently, it was decided that the Dragon Lady should have a c-section. A doctor came and gave her an epidural. It looked very painful. The poor woman yelped like an angry hyena. Then he left the room.
Well, I thought nothing of it. My wife had a little color television resting on a stand at the foot of her bed. I went back to watching the Bobby Bowden and the Seminoles.
It was during a commercial when I noticed the blood. It was seeping steadily out of her back. Her entire hospital gown was stained crimson. I called for the nurse. She came rushing into the room with a shitload of medical students. The Dragon Lady was in the process of bleeding to death.
They managed to contain the bleeding, but a c-section was now out of the question. The surgery would kill her.
The students didn't know what to do. They could no longer rip Ken out of his mother's stomach, and he refused to come on his own. So they were forced to call the Head-Motherfucker-in-Charge. His name was Dr. Miller, and he was a teacher at the local medical school.
By the time Miller arrived, Ken was no longer breathing. It looked like he would probably die in his mother's womb. Miller started barking orders at the nurses and students. The Dragon Lady was wheeled away tout suite. I was left standing in an empty room.
An eternity later, a shy nurse approached me.
She said, "The doctor wishes to speak to you."
My heart stopped. By the look on her face, I discerned that they were both dead. She led me sheepishly to an office. There stood Miller behind his desk, looking grim and serious. He beckoned me to take a seat before him.
He said, "That was a hellish procedure. But I managed to save both their lives."
I sighed heavily. I felt giddy with relief.
I said, "Thank you, doctor! That's wonderful."
He said, "I also managed to repair all the damage to your wife. It initially looked like she might need a hysterectomy. Thankfully, she can still have children in the future."
I said, "You're truly a miracle worker."
He smiled. "I'm just a man. It's what a do. This is a charity hospital, but don't let the name fool you. I'm the best goddamn doctor this side of the Mississippi River. Hell, I might be the best that America has to offer."
Miller meant it, and I believed him.
Ken—while in his mother's womb--went for over a minute without any oxygen. But I truly believe that this helped him in the long run. He's the only member of my entire family who isn't crippled by stress. I shit you not.
Why am I telling you this story? Well, my wife has never forgiven me for watching football while she was in labor.
Yesterday, we went to Ashley's for dinner. The Dragon Lady told Rice-Boy Larry the entire tale.
She finished the story by saying, "You fadda is da real asshoe."
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