"Between a Rock and a Good Place"

By Jerry Zezima

With apologies to Mick Jagger, my kidneys have produced more rolling stones than he’s ever had. That’s why I got satisfaction from a radiology report showing that my career as a rock star could mercifully be over.

On orders from my urologist, who must feel like a miner because he has excavated more than half a dozen stones from my kidneys over the years, I had to get X-rays to see if a suspected boulder was about to begin another excruciating rockslide.

To set up an appointment, I called a nearby radiology center and spoke with a very nice staffer named Anna.

“Have you been here before?” she asked pleasantly.

“I’ve been there so many times that I should have my own parking space,” I responded. “I’ve had X-rays, Y-rays, Z-rays, CAT scans, DOG scans, you name it, I’ve had it. I’m surprised I don’t glow in the dark.”

“You could save on your electric bill,” Anna suggested.

“It would help,” I said, “because otherwise, I’m not very bright.”

“What are you coming for this time?” Anna inquired.

“X-rays,” I answered. “My urologist wants to see if I have another kidney stone.”

“How many have you had?” Anna wanted to know.

“So many that I’ve had to number them like the Super Bowl,” I replied. “I’ve lost count, but I think I have had seven or eight.”

“I hear they’re pretty painful,” Anna said.

“When I had my first one, a nurse told me it was the male equivalent of childbirth,” I said. “I told her that at least I wouldn’t have to put the stone through college.”

“How were your kidney stones treated?” Anna asked.

“Not too well,” I said. “They didn’t treat me too well, so why should I be nice to them?”

“No, I mean, did you have surgery?” she wondered.

“Yes, a couple of times I needed the services of Roto-Rooter,” I said. “Some of the other stones were blasted to smithereens and one was like the old phrase: ‘This, too, shall pass.’ Fortunately, it did.”

When Anna asked for my insurance information, she couldn’t put it in the system.

“It’s slow today,” she explained. “So is my brain.”

“Mine is slow every day,” I said. “That is, when it’s working at all. If you took an X-ray of my head, there would be nothing there.”

When Anna finally got the system up and running, she said, “You’re all set. You have an appointment for 11 a.m. today. Good luck! I hope you don’t have any more kidney stones.”

“Me, too,” I said. “I don’t want to take another trip down the rocky road to recovery.”

I showed up at the appointed time and checked in at the front desk with Kristen, who asked why I was there. I told her I needed X-rays and gave her a quick history lesson about my kidney stones.

“Did you have surgery in the area?” Kristen asked.

“You mean at the hospital up the street?” I replied.

“No,” she said with a laugh, “I mean in that area of your body.”

“Yes,” I said. “Thankfully, I didn’t come out sounding like Frankie Valli.”

About five minutes later, a radiologist named Jennifer called me in to the X-ray room.

“Do I need to put on one of those silly paper gowns?” I asked.

“No,” said Jennifer.

“Not even a lead-lined apron?” I wondered.

“How could the X-rays penetrate it?” Jennifer said before going behind a wall and giving me the following instructions: “Deep breath. Exhale and hold it.” She asked me to repeat it. Then I was done.

“You’re good to go,” she said.

That afternoon, the results were in: “No abnormal masses or calcifications.”

In other words, no more stones.

Sorry, Mick Jagger. You’ll just have to rock and roll without me.

Copyright 2025 by Jerry Zezima

"How to Pack for a Trip"

By Jerry Zezima

I’m a guy who likes to travel the world. Unfortunately, I can do so only if I sit in front of the TV and watch celebrities like Stanley Tucci eat and drink their way through Italy and other exotic lands while the most thrilling places I visit are Home Depot and Costco.

And they don’t even have postcards.

Still, I have been on enough car excursions, including a recent one to Vermont to attend a college reunion, to pass along my valuable tips on how to pack for a trip.

Tip No. 1: Have someplace to go.

I am often told where to go, but it’s hot enough here. That’s why it helps if you have an actual destination where you will spend at least one night. This means you will need a suitcase or a bag that must be filled with clothes, toiletries and other items, one of which — probably your toothbrush — you are required, by federal law, to forget.

Tip No. 2: Decide how long you want to be away.

It’s better to decide this for yourself instead of leaving it up to a judge, in which case you won’t have to pack at all.

At any rate, the longer you will be somewhere, the longer you will need to figure out how much to bring. This could entail stuffing practically your entire wardrobe into a suitcase heavy enough to make TSA agents suspect there is a dead body in there.

Tip No. 3: Check the weather.

This is the most important part of planning a trip because you need to know if it will be sunny, rainy, hot, cold or any combination of meteorological conditions. This means you may have to pack both shorts and jeans, T-shirts and sweats, skivvies and pajamas, bathing suits and parkas.

Oh, what the hell, just bring them all.

When my wife, Sue, and I went to Vermont, we checked the forecast and saw that we needed to prepare for practically every kind of weather. Even though we would be there for only a weekend, rain was in the forecast for the first day, with warm temperatures in the afternoon and chilly temps in the evening.

The second day was supposed to be hot, with storm clouds early and sunny skies later.

So we packed clothes for every occasion, including outfits for the alumni dinner. In my case, that meant bringing a sport jacket, a button-down shirt, khakis and nice shoes.

Sue had to bring a dress and nice shoes.

Other footwear included sneakers, slides, slippers and sandals, which had to go in separate bags.

Whenever Sue and I visit our older daughter and her family, who live 300 miles away, we stay for a week, which means we have to pack enough clothes to make it look like we are going on a world cruise.

“Maybe we can get our own travel show!” I told Sue the last time we went.

“Don’t forget your toothbrush,” she replied.

Tip No. 4: Bring extra underwear.

If you are old or you remember your mother’s admonition to wear clean underwear in case you are in an accident, you will understand.

Tip No. 5: Don’t throw your back out while loading the car.

This can easily happen while you are hoisting heavy suitcases and bags into the trunk or cargo area. Such an injury will make the drive excruciating and possibly lead to an accident, in which case your underwear won’t be clean.

Tip No. 6: Enjoy your vacation!

By day two, you won’t care what you are wearing and will long to get home, where it will take you approximately 12 minutes to unpack everything and sink into a chair with a cocktail.

It would also be nice if you got a postcard from Stanley Tucci.

Copyright 2025 by Jerry Zezima

"Getting the Bugs Out"

By Jerry Zezima

I live in a wasp neighborhood. At least that’s the buzz from a couple of exterminators who came over on separate occasions to rid the house and property of all the pests that creep my wife out.

Sue, who says I’m the biggest pest of all, routinely roams the premises with a flyswatter and calls the extermination company if she sees even one little gnat.

This time she was in the living room when she saw a wasp, which she smashed, and then spotted a couple of bees trying to get in the front window.

“Two bees or not two bees?” I said dramatically. “That is the question.”

“You’re a pest,” Sue responded.

So she called an exterminator.

“Bug spray won’t work on your husband,” a pest technician named Sean told Sue. “But it will get rid of the bees and wasps.”

He took me outside — for inspection, not extermination — and showed me a bunch of holes in the ground.

“They aren’t ant holes,” Sean said. “They’re wasp holes.”

“I could never do your job because I wouldn’t know an ant from a hole in the ground,” I admitted.

“Ants and wasps are what people complain about the most,” said Sean, who dropped granules that he said would get rid of the insects.

“May I try?” I asked.

“Sure,” he agreed.

“I guess I could do your job after all,” I said after going over a small patch of the backyard with a spreader.

But I wasn’t allowed to use the sprayer, which released an insecticide from a nozzle that was attached by a hose to a backpack.

“I’ll do the perimeter of the house and spray around the first-floor windows,” said Sean, who also used a long brush to dust eaves for spiders and other home invaders.

“Has your family bugged you about getting rid of bugs in your house?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Sean said. “But they will.”

Sue didn’t bug me because all the bugs in our house had been eradicated. Or so we thought.

A couple of weeks later, she saw a spider in the bathroom. Then she saw a bee in the kitchen.

“I’m calling the bug guy again,” Sue said.

This time it was a certified service professional named Alex.

He repeated what Sean did and added that he would also spray for ticks.

“Do you know what kind of ticks don’t bite?” I asked.

“What?” Alex said.

“Nervous ticks,” I announced proudly.

Alex laughed and said, “I like dad jokes!”

“Are you a dad?” I asked.

“No,” Alex answered. “I live with my mom.”

“Does she bug you about getting rid of bugs in your house?” I wondered.

“Yes,” he said. “She’s always after me. I bring my job home with me.”

Like Sean, who used to work as a roofer but quit because he’s afraid of heights, Alex likes being an exterminator.

“I used to be a telemarketer,” he said. “That was no fun. Most people think telemarketers are even worse than insects.”

He also worked in a big-box store but quit because he had to be there at 4:15 in the morning.

“Then I worked in a car dealership,” Alex said. “I was the guy behind the computer in the service department.”

Now he gets satisfaction in helping customers keep their home and property free of pests.

“What’s the biggest bug you have to deal with?” I inquired.

“Spider crickets,” Alex said. “They jump at you instead of away from you.”

“My wife says I’m the biggest pest in the house,” I said.

“Too many dad jokes?” he asked Sue.

“They never end,” she replied.

I proved her right when I thanked Alex and said, “If we see any more bees and wasps, we’ll give you a buzz.”

Copyright 2025 by Jerry Zezima