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Happy To Be Home In at 7:00, on the table by 9:30, off five or so hours later, lying in a recovery room lost in the bowls of the hospital listening to old Nazi recordings of conversations between one of people from the company that I work for (somehow) and a woman from the hospital itself, both of them sitting at the opposite ends of a long wooden bench, all this behind a screen that split the room so I couldn't see them, knowing, really, they are speaking Spanish and not German. And not about me splayed out there on my bed, just some day to day Franz Kafka hospital talk on the other side of my room, on the other side of my bed. That went on for hours. And hours. I think. I remember through the next couple of days, half asleep, seeing a computer screen. Like the computer screen I'm seeing now. With a prompt in the left hand corner, rather DOS retro in that respect, but with some windows stuff across the top, so it was a computer that was attached to the web and I was thinking maybe I should mark the page. Mark the page. Is there meaning here? Will I think about this?
The first thing I did when I got home was turn on the computer and check
Note: The oxygen just arrived. A large unit the size of a steamer truck and three backup up tanks in case the steamer trunk fails during the night and I have to sit here hunkered down in my bedroom sucking in oxygen through a plastic tube while they send over a repair crew. I think this is designed for a whole lot heavier set of circumstances than any I've got, a one size fits all approach "how's the emphysema coming man, amazing your alive let alone able to walk", but it makes me think. When I get a tickle in my throat. And need a drink. Time go bed. Happy to be home. |
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email, then four or five web pages, two of them European. Then I put the
stuff I'd picked up at a 7-11 store on the cab ride back home into the
refrigerator. Is this another indicator of a pattern developing or does
this just sink into the unconscious ooze with all the rest? Do I give a
shit? No. I'm just going to have to take longer to write this
what will all the medicines they gave me that are even now trying to
shrink my head to the merely oversized. It didn't
occur to me, for example, to call the company that had left the door hanger
yesterday as I got home just now to have them deliver the oxygen bottle(s)
right away so I could use them tonight. What do you need oxygen for if you
never move from your chair in front of the computer screen? Hard to say,
this late in the day. And tired.