Dilemma

Dilemma (di-lem’-ma): Offering to an opponent a choice between two (equally unfavorable) alternatives.

Why do things have to be different? Why do we have to make choices? I have a choice about which disease to get sick from—Whooping Nose or Polo Fever. I have contracted both diseases, but only one vaccine can be taken—if you take two, one of them will be fatal. Whooping Nose is pretty bad. I’m pretty sure I caught it in the pet store when I was looking for a rat for my daughter’s birthday. She wants to “experiment” on it by clipping one of its feet off with toenail clippers and making a little prosthetic leg out of tooth picks and superglue. Very admirable. But, Whooping Nose is another story,

It starts with a runny nose and quickly progresses into unending series of powerful sneezes, that get worse and worse as the nose clogs up. The end comes when the jaw locks shut and a gigantic sneezes blows your nose off. Your sinuses come out out and hang from your nasal cavity. If the EMTs make it on time, you’ll survive, your sinuses will be returned to their cavities and your nose will be retrieved and sewn back on. Once you’ve had whooping nose, you’re immune from it for the rest of your life.

Then, there’s Polo Fever. I think I got it from picking up a contaminated polo ball and handing it to my buddy Enrico who had invited me to watch him play in a match. When I picked up the ball he yelled “No, no, no!” And wouldn’t take the ball. He told me it had been contaminated by “the play” and I would soon contract Polo Fever. I asked him why he didn’t warn me. He told me that he had forgotten that I am a peasant.

Polo Fever comes on in a week or more, marked by a whinnying sound coming from your butt followed by your temperature shooting up to 101.5—the temperature of a horse. The absolute worst aspect of the disease is the polo ball-sized and shaped- feces passed by the victim. In some cases it takes surgery to remove the hardened polo ball poop. Less serious is manure rolling—where the victim rolls around in polo pony manure snorting. The victim in locked in one of the cages behind the stables and suppled with a steady stream of steaming manure and hosed down every hour. In addition, a shovel full of oats is thrown at the victim every 10 minutes until he or she is coated with oats like a big Payday candy bar is with peanuts. The sound of hoofbeats soothes the victim, helping them through their ordeal.

So, I have to choose between two vaccines, and consequently, two diseases. I’m heading down “the lesser of two evils” highway. Whooping Noses or Polo Fever. The prospect of intestinal surgery puts me off. Losing ny nose to an explosive sneeze may be worse.

I will pray on it, “God, please show me the way.” God didn’t answer, so being at a loss himself to make a decision, he put two slips of paper in his motorcycle helmet: “Whooping Nose,” “Polo Fever.” He reached into his helmet and the two pieces of paper had become stuck together by the cupcake icing on his fingertips. “I should’ve washed my hands” he said remorsefully. Suddenly, a whinnying sound was emitted by his butt. “Time has made my decision,” he said as he looked at the sky. It was too late for the Polo Fever vaccine, so he went to the doctor for the Whooping Nose vaccine, which was exhibiting the barest symptoms and hadn’t taken hold yet. His nose was barely dripping. The whooping Nose vaccine would still work!

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)

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