Sunday, December 23, 2018
A Partial Return
I feel as if I am writing from outer space, out of touch, disconnected, as if this will transmit into a perpetual void of dark and silence.
So it seems. I've been away for awhile. The last post I made here was on a Saturday morning. That afternoon, I went out for a Vespa ride and was run over by an SUV. I went to the hospital trauma center with seven broken ribs, a collapsed lung, and "a broken shoulder" which consists of many breaks in different bones. They began workin on me immediately. They brought in a priest. I had an extended stay and eventually an operation. After my release, I had a home nurse and many, many medicines. I had a staff infection in my blood that required much attention.
I'm not supposed to write about it at this juncture, so that is all I can say. It has been about two months since my operation and I am still rather compromised. I don't know what will happen to my shoulder yet--operation or replacement. I would hope for neither, but even typing this is a chore.
My friends all say that they are glad to have me alive. I am fortunate, they say.
Ili stayed with me night and day. I stayed at my mother's after the hospital, sleeping in a Lazy Boy chair. So after taking care of her for four months, she got the chance to repay me. I am still here, I think, due to Ili and my mother.
So that is it. I don't want to talk about any of it. I am just explaining why I've been away.
I originally chose a picture of a homeless man lying on the sidewalk for this entry, but I changed my mind. I took this picture in a hipster coffee house with an old Yashica rangefinder camera and color film just last week. It is happy. It is fun.
Christmas has caught me unawares. It is here and I am hardly. You and I have missed the intersection of the winter solstice and the full moon together. Such is life, sometimes. I will try to stay in touch here now, though maybe not as often as I had before, at least for awhile. But I am back in some broken form. A gimp's shadow creeping across the grass one winter's solstice cast by the last full moon.
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I'm glad to hear from you. Glad to know that you are well surrounded in these difficult and painful times. I hope your recovery is going well. Have a good Christmas. My thoughts are with you
ReplyDeleteThank you. Still recovering, but I shall.
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