George the Oxygen Tank

My oxygen tank has taken on the characteristics of a human being as George the Oxygen Tank rolls along with me. I've had people inquire with, "So, whose your friend there?" Or, "Who is the new man in your life?" while I am looking behind me to see who they are talking about. Little did I know that they were referring to my always present oxygen tank.

One of my dental hygienist always asks how George is doing and I invariably say just fine as I so want to hurry and have my teeth cleaned! I have to have my teeth cleaned every few months because the medications that I take have wreaked havoc with my pearly whites. Plaque will accumulate more quickly, despite brushing and flossing daily. George keeps me company as I receive a back massage in the new, modern dental chair while trying to view a flat screen T.V. almost flat on my back. Plus the fact that the dental hygienist is leaning over me and I can only see a quarter of her face. So much for that new flat screen T.V. for our viewing pleasure. My mind races through various scenarios in answering how George is doing, my new friend and the new man in my life.

So, here is my mythical conversation. The dental hygienist says,"So, how is George?"
"Oh, he is such a drag. He is constantly trailing behind me and loves to invade my personal space. I try to get him to back off, but he gives me his "hook up" lines (instead of pick up lines). "Hey baby, I bet I can take your breath away" and don't I know it or "Hey, sugar, I am like a breath of fresh air for you" and he sure is right on that account. I just keep these thoughts to myself for my dental hygienist would be ready to commit me to the loony bin or should the dental hygienist be committed for referring to my oxygen tank as a male. Jeez, how do you tell if you have a male or female oxygen tank?

One time, while at the dentist, George broke his left leg and could not walk. He could not stand on one leg alone, so we leaned him up against the wall, where he started to sway. Luckily no one passed by to say that George needed to be tested for his alcohol level as he was bobbing and weaving. Needless to say, he would have passed the breathalyzer test with a finding of 100% pure oxygen. Oh, what a surprise!!

Next time that I go to the dentist, George will be incognito, wearing big framed black glasses with the big nose and black, droopy mustache. Or perhaps, I'll go with a beach bum George, where he will be wearing a Speedo. Oops, it is a public place, George will need to cover up with swimming trunks and a big, colorful beach towel. How about George becoming a foodie? I've seen this new food word daily, whether on T.V. , in the newspaper or in all sorts of magazines. So, is a foodie a gourmet connoisseur of all types of cuisine? Or is a foodie just a person who loves any and all foods? Well, I'll be decking George out in a bib and a bottle of hot sauce with a bottle of Perrier water in his backpack. Send me your ideas on how George should present himself to the public at large. If George becomes to radical in his personality, no doubt my dental hygienist will be wondering if he is has the disorder of schizophrenia or not? I wonder, myself.

Well, George and I are best friends. He supports me and I support him. That's what matters.

May you be who you are.