I went to my office and started day's work only to find it almost impossible. Fortunately, my one daughter is a paramedic with fire department and other is an EMT with county ambulance service. Sitting at my desk, I saw vehicles pull into church office parking lot.

Within a few minutes, my office was filled with EMTs and paramedics. (Someone and I'll mention no name, only to say this person who lives at same address as I, squealed on me.) Their unified mission was convincing a rather stubborn preacher to go to hospital. According to their examination, it was possible I was having a heart attack.

Who knew I even had a heart?

Each took turns persuading me that I needed to go to hospital. Their strategy was to wear me down. To my credit, it took half a dozen to do job. The ambulance was outside and in a few minutes, so they assured me, they could have me in emergency room.

"What about it, Reverend," a good- looking paramedic said, "how about going to hospital?"

"Okay," I finally agreed, "but I'm not going in ambulance, I've already mortgaged my house."

I was escorted to my paramedic daughter's jeep and away we went to ER.

When we arrived at hospital, they rushed me into emergency room and started working on me.

After a few hours, I came to myself (which is a shock in and of itself) and discovered my chest had been shaven. Now, what I need to know is, once shaved always shaved? Just a theological ruse.

In examining my chest, I discovered I had 17 nipples of which all but two were hooked up to some monitoring system. When a person, such as I, is in a dazed confused condition, this is enough to create a heart attack.

The medical staff put me through all tests they had in their diagnostic arsenal. Evidently I had crammed night before because I passed all their tests with flying colors. Although I passed tests pain in my chest continued.

During my medical odyssey, I discovered three things.

The first has to do with nurses, which are first line of defense in a medical situation. Sometimes n and I'm not complaining, just grateful n they are only lines of defense. Certainly, they are link to everything a person needs.

FAMOUS LAST WORDS ...or, are you sure power is off?

-- By Sherlock Tidpit, a jest-in-time™ technology expert, (and amateur sci-fi investigator of certain rare extra-terrestrial phenomena such as timid “Stippleback Sourpuss”, ever-elusive, wingless “Surly Spatterbug”, and invisible, two-tailed “Soiled Specklemonger”)

A recent survey by WHAMS, (World Hoof & Mouth Society), indicates that more people these days are putting their feet (and in some cases hoofs) in their mouths than ever before.

Evidence suggests that a pandemic plague in frequent flopping, habitual botching, and ubiquitous blundering from such convexed contortions could have a deleterious effect upon health and well-being of all living things on planet.

Leading scientific researchers, (just a titch left of centre), attribute this rather odd behavior or recreational pastime to indubitable fact that humans require a minimum of fifteen minutes of fame during their lifetime (no matter what cost or consequences). A minority group of right-wing researchers on fringes of frank thought and utilitarian understanding argue that this behavior is not unusual or statistically significant since large mammals with feet outnumber mouths by a factor of 2:1 and, in some cases, by as much as 4:1.

Healers from around globe, (a traditionally spell-binding, pill-popping, and cut-it-out group of practitioners), have however been a tad overwhelmed by flood of fools showing up for treatment at medical facilities, truth temples, and local fix-it shops.

On other hand, dentists everywhere, (a traditionally happy-go-lucky lot), are reporting a higher burn-out rate than expected, due to an alarming increase in rate of emergency hoof extraction procedures performed on hordes of frantic fools turned away by physicians, hands-on-healers, and snake charmers.

Grief counselors and social workers from every nook and cranny, (a traditionally taciturn group of professionals), are disturbed by chronic level of under-funding for programs to assist victims of foot folly who’ve fallen not surprisingly between cracks. They will be launching a petition shortly to lobby government officials for more money, or failing that, at very least ... an opportunity to be touched by an angel, dabbed by wand of a fairy godmother, or maybe a night out on town with "The Man from Glad".