7:47 a.m. My sweet dozing is interrupted by first notes of "Asterix et Obelix - Générique Debut". My phone's ringing. Still half asleep I grab the blinking one (I have two phones) and see that Luky's mum is calling. That's not good so early. That means something is wrong. She doesn't usually call me during her work hours."Hi, yesterday I had to visit the ER because I had big stomach problems and I'm in the hospital now. Can you tell me what "pathological growth" means?"
If she took a bucket of icy cold water and splashed me from head to toe, she wouldn't start my mind up faster. By the moment she reaches the question mark, I'm not 100, but 120 % awake, my pulse and blood pressure attacking dangerous levels. My mind is racing like Usain Bolt and I'm desperatedly trying to figure out an answer that doesn't contain the word "cancer". The word we are fearing for nearly 2 months now.
"Eeeeeerrrrrrr... well... that means that there's something that shouldn't be there."
Answering her question 30 seconds after waking up, I've probably set the (hardly beatable) world record of the fastest true and politically correct answer to a question like that.
In next few seconds and minutes she explains to me that she is in hospital for some bloodwork (related to those stomach problems, but still on the outpatient basis) and this patological growth is some bone growth on her spine - you know, how many people have these on their knees, shoulders, heel bones... it's usually nothing serious but it causes discomfort. My heart rate is returning to more normal levels.
Four minutes passed, we've cleared everything up, and I'm hanging up, my whole body shaking from this adrenaline rush. You can tell I'm totally awake and not even thinking about going to nap again.
About half an hour later the whole story seems suddenly really funny. You know how you watch comedies, right? Things like that happen there all the time and you go like: "C'mon, it's a film, that could not happen!" and now you are a part of the film. She wanted to inform me that her stomach problems worsened and wanted to ask about what she's read in the X-ray report. But she asked in an... unfortunate manner.
There isn't any moral of this story apart from the fact that I shouldn't sleep for so long. But I can tell you, even the alarm clock that runs or flies away and you have to find it or the old-fashioned metal alarm clock that rings at 100 dB level are NOT the worst thing that could wake you up in the morning.
That happened in December, about a week before my furry little problem striked and I haven't been greeting the ringing alarm clock with joyful shrieking since then, but definitely I don't have much difficulty getting up because every time I feel lazy, I remember that fateful morning.