The Westerville Chronicles: Better Living Through Chemistry

The last thing I remember before passing out was screaming, "YEOW!"

I couldn't have been out too long, because when I came to Nurse Bertha Ransbottom was still removing her latex examination gloves.

"Prostate seems OK," she said casually as he dropped the gloves into a nearby hazardous waste container.

"Jesus," I squeaked, still sprawled across the examination table. "You are a sadist."

"Ach!" she growled, turning on the faux German/Nazi accent all Panzer’s nurses used behind the Doctor’s back. "Miserable cringing coward! We hef no such weaklings in zee fatherland, I'm telling you."

I was too busy experiencing my throbbing prostate to either continue the conversation or pull up my pants. Nurse Ransbottom waited all of 30 seconds - for courtesy's sake, I suppose - and then loudly called for the Good Doctor. Before I could even begin to reach down, I heard the door behind me swing open.

"There’s a postcard. Thanks, Dennis."

It was none other than Doctor Hermann Panzer, Westerville's oldest, meanest - and only - medical doctor. In the eyes of Hermann Panzer - not to mention his demonic nurse - the Hippocratic Oath was for other people. As I struggled to simultaneously gather my pants and stand up, Nurse Ransbottom flipped my chart to Panzer and sniggered.

“Gave his horn a good honk. His prostate’s OK.”

"At least it was before you got a hold on it," I mumbled under my breath.

“Thank you, Nurse,” Panzer said, ignoring my commentary.

Nurse Ransbottom had no reply as she exited the room, closing the door behind her. By the time I finished buckling my belt, the Good Doctor had finished flipping through the pages documenting the state of my health at 50. The frown he wore meant I was in trouble. Pain was quickly replaced by nervousness.

“What is it?” I said anxiously.

The Good Doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully and remained silent.

“Well?”

Panzer set my chart on the examination table with some deliberation and then looked me in the eye.

“Dennis,” he said in his most serious tone, “You’re fat.”

"I forked over a $20 co-pay for that?"

The Good Doctor looked at me over the top of his glasses. It was that icy "Vee hef no argumenters here in zee fatherland…" look that always managed to shut me up. As this time was no exception, I waited for the rest of his good news.

"Being fat, isn't, in and of itself, cause for concern. However, you're now 50 years old and over the past 4 years you've gained 10 pounds a year. In 2003 you weighed 190. In 2004 you were at 200. In 2005 you were up to 210. In 2006 you were 220. Today you're at 230," Panzer said, and then paused for a moment. "If this trend continues, you're going to weigh 430 pounds at age 70. The staff at the nursing home will have to take you to your birthday party in a wheelbarrow."

I opened my mouth to protest, but Panzer held a single finger up to his lips. I remained silent.

"Now, Dennis," he said, "I've known you long enough to know full well that there is no hope I can get you to either start exercising or eating right. So instead, I'm going to do what any responsible member of the medical community would do…"

"Drugs?" I asked, suddenly feeling cheerful. Nothing cheers a middle-aged man than finding out there's a shortcut.

"Yep. We're going to skip all the exercise and dieting and get straight to the weight loss. I going to give you a drug that's going to kill your appetite deader than…"

"My standing with the Central Ohio Republican Party?"

"Bingo!"

With that Panzer pulled a prescription pad out of his lab coat pocket and began to scribble.

"Take this down to the House of Pills and get it filled. Take one a day, first thing in the morning," he said, handing me the script.

"Anything I need to know about this stuff?"

"Nah. Just cut back on the coffee."

So off I went to the House of Pills for my bottle of diet pills, pleased as punch that I was going to be able to avoid months worth of celery and Richard Simmons tapes. However, when I got home and explained it all to Muffy, she was less enthusiastic than my own true self.

"My uncle Biff Mountjoy, of the Shreve, Ohio Mountjoys, he decided to take diet pills to lose weight and all he ended up with was an arrest record," she said over dinner. "The very first day he took one of those pills, well, it hit him right in the middle of his shower. All of the sudden he had the overwhelming desire to wind sprints."

I waited for an explanation, and then, when none was forthcoming, asked the obvious question: "He got arrested for doing wind sprints in Shreve?"

"Why, yes," replied Muffy, her eyes widening. "He went straight from taking a shower to running wind sprints from Mountjoy Manor to downtown Shreve… A distance of several miles!"

"So he didn't stop between the shower and the wind sprints to put on some clothes?"

"Not a stitch. That's how he got the arrest record!" Muffy paused and looked thoughtfully into the coffee cup she held in both hands. "I want you to promise you'll be careful, Dear. I don't want you getting arrested in downtown Westerville while stark naked… Again."

"Don't worry, I'll be careful."

……………

The next morning I was up bright and early. And rather than tempting fate, I decided it best to shower and dress for my day at the office prior to getting medicated. When I sat down to my breakfast of vitamin pill, glass of V-8 and Snickers bar, I noticed that Muffy had thoughtfully set my bottle of pills next my plate. I opened the bottle, which read "Generic Adipex", and popped one of the white and blue tablets into my mouth. With a splash of V-8, I was now on the road to a slimmer, healthier, me.

Or so I thought. Things were fine that first hour after I took the pill, which means I managed to drive to the office and get started on some work before the Generic Adipex actually kicked in. And when I say kicked in, that's really what I mean… One minute I was reviewing Burt Tinwiddy's tax return, and the next I was simultaneously noticing that my nose had gone numb, wondering why the top of my head was suddenly unbearably itchy, and thinking how good a few wind sprints around the Peasant Building sounded just then. I was in the process of scratching my scalp with one hand and feeling my nose with the other when Effie, my faithful secretary, opened the door of my office to say, "Good Morning."

"Impressive," she said, raising an eyebrow at the sight of me. "But can you rub your belly and the top of your head at the same time?"

"Ohthisisn'tfunnyatallEffieNotonebitNosirree," I said.

"What?"

"WhatdoyoumeanwhatIsaidAreyoutryingtobefunnyorsomethingOhthisisn'tfunnyatall
EffieLetmetellyouNotonebitNosirreeAndIthinkIsaiditprettydarnclearlyThankyouverymuch!"

"Is there a reason why you're doing pushups. In your office. At 9 in the morning?"

I didn't have a good answer to that question, so I immediately transitioned into jumping jacks. It was at this moment that Waldo Suggins, Westerville's only dyslexic accountant, decided to show up for work. I was on my 20th jumping jack when I noticed him standing next to Effie, staring at me with those big, brown, slightly crossed, eyes. His mouth was open.

"Wow!" he said in wonderment. "You get a triple espresso down at the House of Caffeine, or what?"

Had the jumping jacks not winded me, and had I not concentrated all of my mental powers on speaking very, very slowly, I'm quite sure I'd have never been able to make myself understood.

"Diet… pills…" I said, sliding effortlessly into deep knee-bend mode.

Effie and Waldo exchanged the sort of looks that told me more information was required.

"Yesterday… visit… Panzer… pills… lose… fat… Adipex…"

Waldo still didn't understand. Fortunately for me, Effie had seen the light.

"You're speeding your nuts off, aren't you?" she asked, a bit of a caustic edge had crept into her voice.

I was on my 7th pushup before I got around to answering her.

"YoubetyournaturalwhiteassIam!"

"Well, we can't have him in here exercising all day," Effie said. "He'll hurt himself. Waldo, you get Dennis into his chair. Hold him down if you have to. I'll get Doc Panzer on the phone."

"Ohthankyouthankyouthankyou…"

I flew up off the floor and was about to start into more jumping jacks when Waldo bear hugged me and then body slammed me into my chair.

"Don't move," he said. "You're on the verge of pulling muscles…"

"MoveMeWhyIwouldn'tdreamof…"

The intercom on my desk came to life.

"Panzer's on line one," Effie said.

I picked up the receiver and slammed it against the side of my head.

"Whatthefucksortofevilshitdidyouprescribeformeyousadistichack!'

"Good morning, Dennis. And how are we this morning?"

Panzer knew I was in trouble, and he was enjoying it.

"WhatthefucksortofquestionisthatDoyouthinkI'dbeonthephonewithyouifeverythingwasfineanddandy OfcoursenotI'monthephonewithyoubecausemynoseisnumbandthetopofmyheadfeelslikeI'vegot
acolonyofantslivingonitandtotopitoffIhavetheuncontrollableurgetoexerciseWhathtefuckdidyougiveme?"

"Dennis, Dennis, Dennis," Panzer cooed. "There's no cause for alarm. The side effects of the Phentermine I prescribed for you will lessen in a few days. This is all perfectly normal."

"NormalYoucallhavinganitchyscalpandamissingnoseandanurgetolivetheRichardSimmonslifestylenormal
BecauseIcertainlydon'tNosirreeBobNotabit…"

"Dennis, don't excite yourself. Perhaps the best thing for you to do is to take a few days off until you get used to the medication. Why don't you have Waldo drive you home?"

"Heythatmightjustbethebestideayou'vehadlatelyCertainlybetterthantheideaofputtingmeonthisstuff
inthefirstplaceOhwellifIgetcalmeddownsomeinadayorsoandthiscrapactuallydoeshelptaketheweight
offIguessitwillbeworthitDon'tyouthinkDoc?"

"Dennis? Will you do me a favor?"

"YesDocAskawayWhateveryouneedyouknowyoucancountonol'Dennistocomethrough…"

"Please hand the telephone to Waldo."

"SurethingNoproblemSigningoff!"

I held the phone out to Waldo, he took it in one hand, keeping the other firmly gripping my shoulder.

"I'lljustgodoafewlapsaroundthebuildingwhileyoutwotalk," I said, trying for a helpful tone of voice.

Waldo wasn't buying it, and the hand gripping my shoulder closed a bit tighter as Waldo listened to Panzer's instructions. When Panzer was finished, Waldo nodded his head.

"Sure thing, Doc," he said and hung up the phone.

"Sowhat'dhesaywhat'dhesaywhat'dhesayEh?"

Waldo relaxed his grip on my shoulder while holding out his other hand.

"You need to give me your keys. You're not fit to be operating heavy equipment."

I stood up and immediately fished the car keys out of my pocket.

"Boyyouaren'tkiddingaboutthatNosirreeI'dbelibeltofireuptheBenzandputalleightcylinderstowork
beforeIevengotoutoftheparkinglotTellyouwhatthoughtheonlytimethatBenzisworthashitiswhen
you'reonthehighwaydoingabout105Thensheallcomestogetherletmetellyou."

Waldo gave the sort of look I'd have expected from Muffy after that sort of pronouncement (doubtful, that is), and took the keys from my grasp.

"Let's go," he said, opening the door.

"HeyIgotanideaAreallyfunideaWaldoCanyouguesswhatitis…"

"Dennis! NO!"

But it was too late, I had already shot past him and out the door. I was down the stairs and half way through the lobby before I made my challenge verbal.

"RaceyoutoPeasantManorforatripleespressoWinnertakesallLoserpaysWhaddayasayWaldo
YougotheBenzandI'vegottheheadstartThat'sprettyfairwhenyouthinkaboutitright?"

I was sprinting down Main Street as fast as my fat legs would pump before Waldo could make it out the front door.

"Dennis! Dennis! Come back!"

He might have said more, but by that time those Westervillians out on the street had begun to offer me verbal encouragement. It was gratifying, but completely unnecessary: It was only 7 miles to Peasant Manor… I'd be there in no time.

Comments

[Mike C.]

Uh-oh. Flashing back to the bygone days of Black Beauties. Woof.

[richard mcenroe]

Sothepillsspedupyourtalkingbutsloweddownyourwriting?Orwereyouvisitingninestatestryingtofindafasterclockforyourcomputer...?

[PeterUK]

This Bertha Ransbottom?

[DonnieDarko]

Phentermine- Yuppie speed with a very nasty side effect. After a couple weeks on this crap, you will notice a difference in, how do I say this, your regularity. What used to be pleasant morning "floaters" will turn into the killer "tar balls from hell that killed the king". Drink lots of water and remember that metamucil is your friend.

[Uncle Fester]

I got wore out just reading about it.