August 17, 2012


I'm here at the very hospital where I was born, preparing to have my uterus removed.  There's something strange & poetic about that.

Today it's pre-surgery tests.  BP, bloodwork, an EKG, all to make sure I'm ok to have surgery.

This is the hospital where, back in 1978, my grandpap recovered from a massive stroke.  It's where my dad recovered from a broken leg, a broken back.  (He went to the Cleveland Clinic for his triple bypass.)

Hospitals are strange places.  People are generally not here for good reasons (except child birth.)  There is much waiting, paperwork, more waiting.

I spent much of my life for about 2 years in hospitals.  I learned how to make my grandpap laugh, where to find vending machines, and how to have fun jumping in elevators.

I once stole a roll of gauze to turn my Barbie doll into a mummy.

But it wasn't fun for the most part.  I'd bring my homework & we'd spend evenings at my dad or grandpap's bedside.  It's where I learned that having a black sense of humor would save me.

the gift shops have changed.  besides the balloon they now sell purses and jewelry, sparkly things, distracting things.  there are fancy coffee stands, better cafeteria food, TVs with cable, etc...

but it's still a hospital.  the place we go to be born, to be repaired, and to to die.  some people have called me morbid for saying such things.  but it's just the truth, and inevitable.  we're born, we live, and we die.  and from time to time, we find ourselves in hospitals.

when i find myself in a hospital, for whatever reason, i find myself thinking, "oh... i better appreciate the good things in life.  i better stop fucking around, wasting precious time.  i better enjoy every sandwich."

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