Casa Paloma
Well-known member
After finally getting caught up on the chores I went to my doctor to determine the source of my sickness. The doctor, after a lengthy examination, sighed and looked me in the eye and said, "I've got some bad news for you. You have cancer, and it's very bad. You'd best put your affairs in order."
I was shocked and saddened. But, being of solid character, I managed to compose myself and walk from the doctor's office into the waiting room. To my son who had been waiting, I said, "Well, son, we Chicanos celebrate when things are good, and we celebrate when things don't go so well. In this case, things aren't so well. I have cancer. Let's head for the bar and have a few beers."
After 3 or 4 beers, the two of us were feeling a little less somber. There were some laughs and more beers. We were eventually approached by some of my old friends who asked what the two of us were celebrating.
I told them that Chicanos celebrate the good and the bad. I went on to tell them that we were drinking to my impending end. I told my friends, "I have been diagnosed with AIDS."
My son's eyebrows raised and he opened his mouth, but I raised my finger and the frown on my face stifled what he had planned to say.
The friends gave me their condolences, and they had a couple more beers. After my friends left, my son leaned over and whispered his confusion. "Dad, I thought you said that you were dying from cancer. You just told your friends that you were dying from AIDS!"
I said, "I know mijo, but I don't want any of those pendejos sleeping with your mother after I'm gone."
I was shocked and saddened. But, being of solid character, I managed to compose myself and walk from the doctor's office into the waiting room. To my son who had been waiting, I said, "Well, son, we Chicanos celebrate when things are good, and we celebrate when things don't go so well. In this case, things aren't so well. I have cancer. Let's head for the bar and have a few beers."
After 3 or 4 beers, the two of us were feeling a little less somber. There were some laughs and more beers. We were eventually approached by some of my old friends who asked what the two of us were celebrating.
I told them that Chicanos celebrate the good and the bad. I went on to tell them that we were drinking to my impending end. I told my friends, "I have been diagnosed with AIDS."
My son's eyebrows raised and he opened his mouth, but I raised my finger and the frown on my face stifled what he had planned to say.
The friends gave me their condolences, and they had a couple more beers. After my friends left, my son leaned over and whispered his confusion. "Dad, I thought you said that you were dying from cancer. You just told your friends that you were dying from AIDS!"
I said, "I know mijo, but I don't want any of those pendejos sleeping with your mother after I'm gone."
