Thursday, March 18, 2010


There was a flaw in my plan. Looking out the window as we pulled out of the train station I had discovered the flaw in my plan...rain. Sideways falling, wind driven, icy cold, dart like rain. It was going to be a long walk home from the Abington train station.

Before I had set out for my little medical adventure I thought I had covered everything as I was determined to be a model of yankee independence and self sufficiency. Train schedules and cab fare quotes prepared me for the journey to and from the hospital. I had even bribed the guy who does the maintenance for my apartment complex with a case of Brazilian beer to take out Joey a few times. I had stocked up on groceries the day before so I would not have any silly errands to run when I got home. March 12 was my D-Day and I was determined to be I said...I thought I had covered everything...except that is...for the nor'easter raging outside.

The day had not started out all that well. I woke up at about 2:30 in the morning to find a small pool of blood...that would be my blood...on my my bed. It was probably not all that much blood but the thing about blood, when its yours and when its not inside of you a little can look like a lot. So I buzzed my nurse. Nurses often have their own timetable as to when they want to arrive on the by the time she sauntered in I had cleaned myself up and had the bed half stripped. I decided, wisely I think, to keep to myself any speculation as to what she might have been doing instead of her job...

I had been warned that bleeding out was possible from this procedure...which was why I remained in the hospital from what is often an outpatient event. The medical adventure, which entailed running a catheter to my heart to remove scar tissue, took less time than did preparing for and recovering from it. And it was not nearly as unpleasant as the infection I am currently battling...chills and fever is a roller coaster ride I can do without.

This past weekend a friend and I had a discussion about Buddhist meditative them involves the practitioner asking himself "what is this?" as a way for one to remain present in the moment. I resisted the urge to tell her that I already do this...obsessively...or so it seems....So I ask myself..."what is this?" the preparation, the procedure, the bleeding, the walk home in a nor'easter, my first two days at home, the subsequent infection with the accompanying fever and chills. While I do think that this is all about ablation...that is the removal of unwanted be honest with you...I have no idea how to answer the question "what is this?"

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