"Shelter from the Storm"

I'm home. Went to Kings County. A major medical hub for our region. It used to be a Bedlam when I was little. However years of rebuilding, and social progress has made it an outstanding place. Good folks there.

They spent the whole day into the night treating me for a toxic soup I ingested. Thank you Sylvia, my sister, for insisting I go. I can be particularly stubborn.

Just ask her.

They did the deed. A  total work up IV's of who knows what. That, and blood liquids sampled tested. I was ventilated for all the smoke in my guts.

They even had a Nun chat with me as I listed Catholic my faith. This instead of Pagan Queer Anarchist Agnostic. She was nice. We went on about the current Pope.

We both agreed he was a cool one,...for a change.

They gave me stuff for my worse symptoms. ...and a light broth. Then I slept. The first real sleep in a few days. The reality of what happened, and what could have happened was just hitting me. My Nun pal,...Sister Julia was good at this sort of thing.

I should be dead,...again. Having been on top of a moderate sized fire. Smoke began coming up through my living room floor. Just like was reported by some of the last calls from the Towers,...before silence.

The floor was still warm when I swept, and mopped the debris from where the fire-persons knocked open my wall. See photo below.

At the time I didn't have the notion to be afraid.

Strange that. Like folks in an accident plane crash or even maybe a battle. You're just there doing what you do. In my case tidying up. It was my reflective reaction to calamity...clean it up. People do odd things in extreme situations. 

These last several years have been rather difficult. Harsh, but manageable. You just go on, and try to have humor about it. However this year has been more than interesting.

The Angel of Death has been staring dead at me.

Fuck'em.

I'm staring dead back.