Guy Fieri is my blood relative,
Please, nobody look that up.
I’ve, primarily, been two kinds of kid in my life, the sick kid & the funny kid; usually at the same time. Sick can be funny, funny can be sick, but the connection between the two has yet to be unveiled in any number of 300-dollar appointment with my shrink. He does not see my silly boy antics as a psychiatric concern, and he may be right, but the joy of being a funny sick kid is that I never know if I’m being funny or exercising my sickness.
Seriously, don’t look it up,
Just believe me.
On Father’s Day,
And Mother’s Day,
And on both of their birthday,
I posted a picture of my
Real life relative Guy Fieri
And talked about what a good job he is doing.
It is unclear if this makes either of my parents sad.
When I was a small kid, around 2, I got scarlet fever. It was Hawaii in 1996, Kona was small and isolated and hot, it happened sometimes. They had to take the blood from me hourly. I am scared of doctors’ offices now. A small known issue associated with young kids getting bad infections of this type is Pediatric autoimmune neuropsychiatric disorders associated with streptococcal infections (or PANDAS, kinda cute, right?), which basically states that the disease cooked part of my brain to the point of causing early and severe onsets of OCD and other Tic disorders.
I Also have ADHD, which I got from my father.
And Bi-polar disorder, which I think came from my maternal grandfather.
I don’t want this to sound like complaining I’ve had a LONG time to come to terms with all of these, but I just wanted to catch you up.
Do you watch the news?
You know the moment when the
“On the scene reporter” is
On a delay from the main anchor?
So the anchor will say
“and now to Tim who is on the scene
At the world-famous Taranto cannoli fest,
Then they cut too him
But it’s like 7 seconds before Tim answers,
My mother says she had to hold me down while they took my blood, that I would kick and scream and now doctors make my heart beat fast and hot; needles make all the muscles in my body turn to a fist and punch. I get made fun of sometimes by friends and family for fearing needles but at the same time I am adorned in ink like my skin is thin paper, but a tattoo artist has never held me down and taken the warmth from my arm using a tattoo machine.
“That’s right Henry…”
How has nothing bad ever
Happened in those seven seconds?
It only takes one second to be crushed by a
Vending matching, and one of those seven
Seconds is never that funny one second.
Justin, my shrink, thinks my mother made me sicker. That she liked having a sick kid. I’m not sure I believe him. At most, she just taught me to be vocal about it. To talk about myself in useful ways, to communicate my existence to anybody who would listen. To tell my story so that even though people couldn’t, like, relate; they would still be able to understand me.
My partner also has OCD but she got it the normal way. her brain has never been seared or brûléed.
My brain was once cooked medium rare, like a steak.
I wonder if all medium rare things have OCD? Just cooked enough to be
Interesting to those who consume them.
I have set out to make a career as a writer, a comedy writer, and for a long time I didn’t think I could do it if I was sick/sad/anxious/hungry; but I don’t think that anymore.
Comedy comes in 2 forms, I believe: taking a funny situation very seriously and taking a very real situation lightly; this polar rule rules for this bipolar boy, as I swing my jokes swing with me and the sick boy and the funny boy can exist alongside each other.
It’s a beautiful thought; I’ll let you know if it ever works for me.
Guy Fieri is my blood relative.
Not an uncle, that is too specific.
A distance, a cepheid blinking
On the edges of a family tree I have
Never looked at.
Nobody look it up,
Please, it is not that I am
Attached to the concept
So much as it has become
Attached to me.
People ask me every day
If it is true.
I say yes,
Why ruin the sick kids fun?
By: Brennan Staffieri