I just stumbled over something I wrote while in hospital for a month. This exactly a year ago. Eh, I didn't die. ...mostly.
"Every physical presence has a unique rhythm. Makes it's own music. Hospitals at night like ships at sea make music. With vessels the sound of the sea cleaving beneath the bow. Decks creaking sails rippling. The ship's bell a call to prayer.
Hospitals in the quiet of night. Soft conversations. Nurses orderlies gliding across polished floors. Patients slippers padding. The hum of
monitors singing together. A symphony of tones. The rustle of sheets as waves in this inland sea.
That, and the outside cadence. The heart beat of the vast city that cradles us."
Overheard by me at 2:am. This while having blood drawn yet again.
"...Doesn't anybody have the key to the Narcotics locker?!"
I was lucky in that for most of my stay I had no suite-mates. Just staff, and a wide window. This showed the change of season from Winter to Spring. There was a tree which had snow on it's branches when I arrived an inch from eternity.
When I left the first buds were blooming.
4 comments:
Who needs keys? Narcotics for the masses!
I hated my 2 nights in hospital. But I’d probably be pretty happy sleeping aboard ship, as I have been on a train. However it’s best to have your own little cabin, like Hercule Poirot in “Murder on the Orient Express.” Listening to bunk mates snore is the opposite of restful.
Z
However I 'do' miss the Morphine.
I went to the ER with terrible vomiting and dry heaves; the agony was intense. I’m sure what they gave me intravenously must have been some form of morphine. After such dreadful suffering, it felt absolutely wonderful. I couldn’t get enough.
Z
Loves that Morphine!
"Now available in the New "Land 'O Smiles" 12 Bottle Family Pack!"
"If it's "Land 'O Smiles" it's Wild!"
Post a Comment