A new diagnosis

Here is a fun new game some friends and I have been playing. At almost any time of the day or night, and by any time, I literally mean a phone call at 3AM, I will get a phone call or email, with a subject line that reads, in all caps, "TERRIBLE NEWS". If I am stupid enough to answer the phone, I will hear a desperate voice at the other end, "are you sitting down?" I usually say, "no, I am laying down, I am sleeping, or I was."

"I just got the report from the doctor."

"You just got the report from the doctor at 3AM?"

"Yes, it's a clinic with strange hours."

"I can tell."

"The diagnosis, well, I have" (here you fill in the blank. Part of this new game is to come up with something interesting and then detail how it is changing your life. Or not. When my friend called at 3AM his disease was one that made him make stupid phone calls at obscene hours of the day and night. It was incurable, sad really.

Recently I called my friend Drunky McDrunkington, who, when I called at 2AM my time, which is drunk time-his time, I began by asking, "are you sober, because I am not sure you are ready for this."

"Is it AIDS?"

"No, but that't a good one, I might have to get AIDS next time."

And so it goes.

Yesterday I diagnosed myself with ADHD, which is not nearly as rare as one would think. I called my dear friend Hippy Chick and she was all, like, "dude, what does that even mean?" Which was exactly what I had hoped her response would be, so I yammered on for a good 20 minutes on how my life was drastically changing, how my diet would need to be adjusted, my sleep time, even my clothing, I no longer could wear cotton. That one took her by surprise, but I danced around it telling her that ADHD reacts to exterior stimuli on a cellular level, which seems like it could make sense, it it were true, although sadly, it is not.

Just now my phone rang, a weak voice, barely audible whispered, "can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can hear you, can you hear me?"

"Yes. Are you sitting down?"

"I am now."

"Good."

"Is this bad news?"

"I think so, yes."

"Well, you did call."

"That I did. You are sitting down, yes?"

"Yes."

"Well then, I just got a letter from my doctor."

"You got a letter from your doctor?"

"Yes, that's what I said, I got a letter from my doctor."

"You got a snail mail letter from your doctor?"

"Exactly, that is what I'm saying. I got home late and there was this letter from my doctor."

"Seriously, you have to step you your game. My lord, no one gets snail mail letters from their doctors. You don't even get bills from doctors offices anymore. What century do you live in?"

"You never get a letter from your doctor?"

"I get email."

"You get medical information email?"

"Test results, prescriptions, medical appointments, everything."

"Bullshit."

"Seriously. Anyway, continue. Do you have this...letter, in your hand?"

"Yes, right here."

"Well, go ahead and read it."

"I already have. I have chronic difinkulitus."

"Oh my. That sounds bad."

"It is. I have less than 2 weeks."

"You have less than 2 weeks?"

"Yes, that's what it says, the letter says I have less than two weeks."

"From when? From when you get the letter, or from when it was sent? What if you were on vacation? Does the clock start when you open it? What if you never opened it? What if they delivered it to the wrong address? Hello? Hello?"