RESCUE ME

Here’s me and my daughter, doing a little slow dance at a Buddy Whittington show. We had so much fun that night. We rocked that place inside out. When she was a little girl we used to dance. She would run little circles around me, flailing her arms around, and squealing. Then for the slow songs I’d glide her along perched on top of my feet.


She’s a big girl now, and dances very cooly, and looks so good doing it.

My friend Gary told me a while back that I didn’t dance the same as I did a year ago.
“You are not nearly as flamboyant” he said, and wondered if I was tired of dancing or depressed or something.
“No Gary, I just seem to wear out quick these days” I had said. “And all these FACEBOOK Jokers that want to video-tape me doing my knee-jerk shuffle and post it has me a little shy.”
“You? Shy?” he asked.
“Nah, I don’t care. But I do wear out awful quick these days.”

And that shouldn’t be a surprise, what with my diabetes, high blood pressure and low testosterone.
But I got the bronchitis last week and went to the doctor. They did some tests and have determined I have COPD as well. They gave me anti-biotics and some kind of inhaler.
And a prescription for something called a “Rescue Inhaler”
That’s great. All of a sudden I’ve crossed some kind of line and need a rescue inhaler.
I told the doctor I didn’t think I needed one.

But I’ve been thinking about it, and before the next Buddy show, think I better go get one of those rescue inhalers. I have been accused of all things, being less flamboyant than usual.
And no wonder.
I just can’t get any air.
Dancin’ days are here again!