To all my beloveds out there, I want you to know that I am doing amazingly well......am gamboling around with just a cane (whenever I rouse myself from my favorite horizontal position). Having very little pain and not even too much discomfort. The best word to describe my state would be languid, I think. Cossetted in mounds of pillows and surrounded by various footstools (one for Gussie who must have her own right beside me lest she tromp on my sore leg, one for the computer and one for my own feet and legs which prefer to be elevated just so.) I am, in many ways, the luckiest dumbshit in the world; and yet, I am not ready to snatch up the gauntlet and go on with the struggle. I think I am just going to lie here for a while, if you don't mind.
Also, unluckily for you, I have just discovered that it is Pre Football Season, so all hopes of my tapping out a brilliant piece on my adventure and my condition are out of the question...........unless I have an ounce of energy left over when the games are off later.
I have counted all the various parts......arms., legs, fingers, toes......and except for a few errant pints of blood which accidentally leaked into my right thigh I seem to be all here, but I just can't seem to get going. I am beginning to suspect that they did some undocumented things while in the hospital.....perhaps replaced my brain with someone else's, or excised all my gumption.
My chief skill seems to be lying prone in the lounge chair ringing a little brass bell for service. I am not complaining, you understand, just explaining and apologizing why news from this front has been so sparse.
Please stick with me folks and I will tap out a few cryptic messages as the ability returns. Meanwhile, know that I am well and well cared for............except for that Gussie.....
The New Yorker covers: February 10, 1968
5 hours ago