The Monster Mash

Posted: February 2, 2013 in Uncategorized

So this is no longer some casual hospital stay. If you really want to know what these pneumonia drugs will do when combined with a  biopsy and a catheter operation, look no further.  Think key words: frigid ICU room. Romanian nurse. Roseanne. Rotten Fishcake. 2 Day Fast. I am thinking this deserves another installment of The Body Drama.

You remember the raging Chekhovian self-pity of Chapter I proceeded by “The Monster Mash”?

Also here are links to the first few posts from a couple months ago. Some have been asking for quicker access.

Image

1. The Ordeal That Reinvented The Wheel

2. “You’re Turning VIOLET, Violet!”

3. Zero-to-One-Hundred-and-Fifty, Part 1

4. Zero-to-One Hundred-and-Fifty, Part 2

5. Bare Departures

Ahí está!

Since the last couple of months of these entries, my mind and its motivations are beyond anything else craving freedom; a shifting of realities, to reach for their vicissitudes and create something beautiful out of this extended nightmare. Maybe even to go somewhere to the mountains for awhile, in solitude, lose the meaning of words and embrace an animal metamorphosis.

Hope to be out of here by Monday. I can only describe this process like trying to set The Guinness Book of World Records for holding your breath 6000 feet underwater. Actually, that metaphor might be too glaringly obvious. So let me break it down, metaphor-lite to save you the calories.

There is phlegm. Blood. And spit. The resistance to cough so immense that you fear that you might hack up hot coals.  (How’s that for “lite”?)  There is laughter, There is Ativan. There is full body itching. Chills.  There is parental helplessness. And the “FUCK YOUS” that emerge unfairly “when [they’re] only trying get the right soup.” The self-depricating numbness afterward realizing you are an adult in their house.

There are triple berry smoothies. There is chest annihilation over cold toilets. There is a doctor that wakes you up at 5 in the morning who looks like a figure in Mt. Rushmore, whom you want to tell that you’re “doing fine” when really you don’t know what the hell is going on with you. There is a priest who “just wants to sit there” to deliver quotes St. Augustine. There is an all encompassing but wistful view of First Hill out the window. Then there’s music. Which unfortunately, running through my laptop and Sirius XM, all sounds very old.

So it isn’t jail and it ain’t a hotel. Maybe something in between. Maybe a jotel?

No, it’s a hail. And oh, is it a ball! One mean ball of hail!

Please have a great weekend, everyone!

Comments
  1. tailandia says:

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