Wednesday, July 29, 2009

waiting rooms

i am currently comfortable. the most comfortable—in fact—that ive been in twelve days; during which time my insides and mental stability have been wrenched and burned as the result of an as-yet undiagnosed medical condition resulting from some complication in my cholecyst—my gallbladder.

it is expected. my mother had choleliths (gallstones) and a subsequent cholecystectomy (removal of the gallbladder). her grandmother also had similar complications. what exactly—i dont know.

the aforementioned train of thought was just interrupted by my name being called by a doctor at the boundary between me and where the real fun is. i just got an IV in my arm. and—hence the title—i am currently in a waiting room.

sitting here writing—for the first time about my life in what seems to be forever—awaiting a hepatobiliary imino-diacetic acid scan. it will test the functioning of my liver with respect to my gallbladder and small intestine, and it will subsequently test the functioning of my gallbladder with respect to my small intestine.

and so all of that other stuff was just history. whatever. point being: after being pained for consecutive days on end, for what is at least the third time in four months, i basically got mentally fucked up enough to say, "enough is enough" and start getting the medical ball rolling, so to speak.

and so it is.

the point of this particular written monologue has to do with the title itself: waiting rooms.

most people dread them: the wait. the other patients. the wait. the paperwork.

the wait!

but in the past three years, i have found a particular peace in waiting rooms. typically because it was never the case that i was in there for my own personal health. in the past three years, it was always me escorting my beloved residents to basset healthcare in cooperstown, or basset healthcare in herkimer, or the slocum-dickson medical group in utica, or saint elizabeth’s hospital in utica, or saint luke’s hospital in utica, or some damned place in syracuse. and so on.

and while they waited, i got to take what could certainly be called a well-deserved break from the seeming nonstop craziness back at the nursing home—which i so thrived on—and could still thrive on.

and though i enjoyed every second that i ran around that nursing home—making beds, ambulating residents, escorting residents to physical therapy, passing nourishments, running errands—going on a transport typically meant a scenic drive, reading vonnegut in the waiting room, learning things in the examination room, and a scenic ride back to the nursing home.

it was a peaceful oasis in the middle of a busy day.

and i suppose thats why yesterday, while waiting for a putative diagnosis (which i already suspected, mind you), and now, while waiting to get jazzed with technetium 99m—a radioactive tracer—i am entirely at peace.

i dont even feel any pain.

oh the mysterious ways that the past can comfort the present.

story of my life the for past three months.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

home—we’re coming home again

a bit of a history: so one best friend flies across the country from the west coast to the east coast yesterday. meets up with other best friend back in frankfort. and the two of them drive to albany for a night of mayhem. it was a blast. but before it even got off the ground, talk of this one night led into talk of the subsequent night. and as my experiments are obligated to sit at least until friday, i decided to pack up and come back to frankfort with them this morning.

before we even got on i90, something felt weird. not a bad weird. but. just weird. it wasnt like when i became unstuck in time and went back to my high school graduation. it was nothing like that. this was just a feeling. i think it is because i have not been anywhere near frankfort during the summertime since that fateful summer of 2007. and even as i sit here now, listening to an ep by the now-defunct band named the stickup—and ep i luckily bought on a whim during the summer of 2006—i just feel immersed, almost, in this feeling. like i am swimming through a different world.

but this always happens to me no matter where i go. i am always living in the present. looking towards the future. and sensing the past.

my house has always smelled different in the summertime. and i guess despite my previous summer living here being so traumatizing, my brain has repressed the bad and can take in all that it is sensing around me and simply cause me to enjoy being in my house and in my hometown during what always used to be such a relaxed and fulfilling time of year—namely, the summer.

ive missed this smell. ive missed this house. ive missed this town.

its good to be home.

Monday, July 6, 2009

the few, the proud…

observation: it would seem that despite overall international displeasure with war, young men and women fresh out of high school or college or the breadline are still lining up to be turned into unemotional, unfeeling, hopelessly obedient robots day after day after day.

question: what if everybody just said the hell with the peruvian air force or the hungarian army or the united states marines or the japanese navy or the insurgency and on and on, and there were no more soldiers left to fight anybody’s wars?

dare i say: war is perpetuated by the mentally defunct young men and women of planet earth who at the ripe young ages of 18, 19, 20, 21, 43, and on and on, must somehow find it amusing to run from defilade to defilade, from trench to trench, otherwise turning fellow members of the human race into so much hamburger meat. and somehow—bless them—they are able to aide their fellow countrymen by translating that unimaginable mess into terms that must be far more easy for civilians to understand.

this is it: defending ones country. or: defending ones religion.

give me a break!