"the deadliest bullshit is odorless and transparent" - William Gibson

Tuesday, June 01, 2004

I still sleep on the floor. It's been 4 weeks since surgery and i still sleep NEXT to my bed, like I'm my own shadow, my own drooling golden retriever. At least, I've advanced past using the polar care 3000 ice machine at nights, but i still sacrifice sleep and comfort to purchase the assurance that during the night i will not find a position which will cause me extra pain the next day. Am i being ridiculous? the scene from above sounds weak and pathetic instead of somehow resolute and spartan. i'm really afraid of the mornings when the cozy of bed plus the pain of my knee might make me sleep to long and feel so lethargic and unmotivated. perhaps that's the reason for ths continued mechanism. crikes.

My anesthesiologist's name was John Booth. Young. Funny. Same dude i had last time. one family name short of infamy. He was a large goateed Brit, and told me how he playeed soccer, but gave it up for rugby because he was getting he was getting too old to run after people, but he still liked hurting them. The day he was to help operate on my knee was his last day at the hospital. He was moving north to greener pastures where the responsibilities and irks of teaching were replaced by more respect and a better paycheck. Maybe it was because it was his last day. Maybe it was just his personality. Maybe it was my hyper-aware pre-surgery state. He seemed truly honest in our brief conversation.
"I just want to be able to live in the country and help some sick people and go home at the end of the day and go fishing, he said." He looked wise and he looked exhausted. "i'm packing up the pick-up truck and leaving tomorrow morning." He was honest too about my recent medical woes: peculair but not that surprising, frustrating but that dehabilitating. "you'll be back in no time" he said.
For whatever reason, i usually never feel the breath of compassion from doctors. Any healing tradition or nobility seems to have been sandblasted off a long time ago. But here was simple honest connection. A sincere confession thrown away to a relative stranger that he was about knock out with a dose of the happy night night juice.
I wonder if he went fishing yet, and I wonder if he used nightcrawlers or minnows, and if he got his line stuck in a tree.

Today, a friend told me that all other things being equal, you should choose the option that scares you the most. he is a very smart person, and rational, and a bit radical. He has built a windmill and a huge deck and hiked the AT, and I could tell that he had given this philosophy a lot of thought.


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