THE DESIGNATED RAMBLER, #3
What do you make of anything? I never
did find that out. I was in the hospital for
what seemed like forever, and that was
only AFTER I awoke from a prolonged
and dreamy coma. I shouldn't say the
coma was dreamy - it was black and
silent and different, for sure - but the
slow reawakening into what purports
to be 'this life' was dreamy. It was, to
my young mind then, like pulling a
long usual and uncracked (well, maybe
not) piece of Bonomo's Turkish Taffy
(that was a big candy hit back then),
stretching it for as long as possible,
and then finding some 'position'
upon it to come back into life from,
or at. I never figured. I could see
and hear things as they were, in
a strange and shadowy way, and
without language, occurring, but
I was somehow not then yet
'reconnected' into the favorable
and mechanical aspects of the
usual 'human' life I was used to.
It was an odd sensation, much
like the helplessness a newborn
must feel? I guess I was a newborn,
but one with a clarity of memory
by which I still immediately 'knew'
what a fork was, or water, or my
arm, or a bed. So, not really so new.
(And then I started wondering if
maybe babies aren't as empty-minded
upon arrival as we think they are.
And, speaking of 'bed,' upon my
awakening I slowly realized - at
first to my confusion and then
to a disturbing amazement -
that I was NOT just IN a bed,
but tied, roped, in casts, and in
'traction' - which meant that, for
instance, my right leg, encased in
plaster, was on an elevated pully
which kept it maybe 10 inches or
more elevated, and which kept it
straight and stretched somewhat,
for healing. (Still today there is
a slight difference in the length
of my two legs). I essentially
could not move. I was (all my
injuries were on the right side)
sort of strapped in place with
little room or hope of maneuvering;
my right arm at the same time
being in its own cast and pulley.
It was a maddening scene, but one
which I myself never saw, being
of course the one in the middle
of it all. Others would proclaim
of my situation. All the time I'd
been 'out' - in my coma-land -
I'd no idea of what had transpired,
where I'd been wheeled or entered,
when and how all these ridiculous
contraptions and casts had been
attached, or, by rights, how in
the world I'd been entered into this
mess - and only slowly, and through
others telling me - did vague ideas
of what had occurred begin coming
back to me. Yet, there was NO
memory of pain, or hurt, or the
anguish you'd think. Thankfully.
At least then I had something to
go by; otherwise how would a
twerpy 8-year kid concoct a
conclusion to what had gone on?
My mind was a blank, and I had
only what others told me to go
on. No more different than falling
out of a plane and surviving.
-
Memories, in his case, proved
elusive. And, I thought too, where
in the world had I just been for all
that dark time? Wherever I was,
there had been voices, instructions,
sensations, illuminations, and echoes,
but I did not have a clue as to the
origin. Some of it was later cloaked
in religious terms to my, by the pious
priests and Italian family members
who began catering to me, but I
knew immediately that they were
just as much full of 'it' as anyone
else. It had nothing to do with that
and all they were presenting were
limitations. I had been dwelling in
some other 'realm', I guessed to
call it, where things were all at
origin and still answerable as
creations and actualizations. It
was as if I had been taken 'from'
the carnival, and somehow been
transported and kept at the place
where all the carnival things were
made. Maybe that's one, poor,
way of putting it.
-
Comas are weird. It's said that
they are a body shut-down to
allow healing. Well, perhaps,
but not really. That would just
be a blankness of space without
a context, and a 'human' couldn't
truly accommodate that, for it's
merely negative space. Even
astronauts don't go into black
holes, so why would I? And my
biggest question, later on, was
'Had I met the Carnival Master?'
It irked me that someone, or some
Thing, during that time, had been
giving me words or instructions,
or some sort of urgings by which
to proceed in my reawakening and
after. I didn't know it then, but now
I can and will say, safely, that I
was re-directed, or re-programmed.
Simply letting all that be, I accepted
my unknown new fate without so
much as a glimmer of ending or
the real purpose of any of this.
-
Another point to mention: I had
a severely broken jaw. My mouth
was wired shut, like having braces
but ones that kept your mouth closed.
I could only eat baby food, sucked
in from a deep spoon which I had
to hold against my teeth and draw
in. Creamed peas, and the rest of
that miserable Gerber Baby Food
line. That went on for quite some
time and, to this day, I don't know
how I did it, or tolerated it - the
equivalence of the claustrophobia
that being stuck in a between
floors dead elevator for long
hours would bring. Imagine, if
you will, your own mouth
clamped shut for maybe two
months. It was horrid, and when
I have dreams now of being
locked in a coffin, without air,
or in a cave or crevasse, it's the
same feeling.
-
The day had to come, and it did,
when I'd be awake and back to
consciousness, and visitors would
come. Perhaps to see the 'miracle
child' - in their eyes. I got plenty
of that. bearing food, gifts, trinkets,
and stuff I forgot about before they
had even left. Probably a fortune,
in today's terms, of collectible and
valued kid's junk, er, toys.
--------
[I see that I've gone on too
long already, and NO mention of
Miss Frank, which I'd promised.
I'll try for it next time].
No comments:
Post a Comment