How Irish Whiskey Saved My Brain (Maybe)

How Irish Whiskey Saved My Brain (Maybe)

By Bill Frayer


Alone, getting my brain scanned,

In Guadalajara

The kindly radiologist told me

With sad eyes, “I think you have a tumor

In your brain.” And showed me a large shadow

On the MRI which looked, well, big.

I rode home in the cab

In the dark, alone,

Thinking over my life.

“How odd, that it should come

To this.” I pondered.

“Well,” I thought, as I entered my bright empty home

At midnight, “If I’m doomed,

I might as well enjoy an

Irish whiskey before bed. “So I sipped on a generous Jamison,

As I marveled at the kaleidoscopic hallucination

At the periphery of my right eye

And enjoyed the calm, surprised at myself.

“Tomorrow,” I admonished myself, “I’ll get the full version.”

As the whiskey fortified my spirit.

I slept soundly, knowing I’d deal

With any new reality

In the morning.

Good thing. The overnight study

Reversed the calamitous finding

And I was forced to face

That I had no tumor

And would likely live

To face more unknown risks.

No easy exit yet.

I think it was the whiskey.

I think I deserve another.


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