RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,333
(scatterbrain gets no reprieve)
Now here's some fun. I'm probably
at the end of my life. I spent the last
2 days preparing for hospital days.
It was almost as much fun as putting
a needle into my knee. A doctor talks
about my heart like it was putty.
-
Back and forth, like I never imagined.
There are places allover places : Pittstown
to Hughestown. Avoca to Jermyn. Scranton
to any used car lot you desire. Why should
I whine? The nurse was a real beauty too,
handling my junk like it wasn't mine.
-
We ended up in a rude motel. It began
life as an Econo-Lodge, but that was
long ago. Now it's an 86 bucks a night
smelly fleabag called the Maharaj Palace.
Oh sure : closed up restaurant section,
with broken atrium glass. The lobby was
a dive, the rooms were crummy, and the
walls were cracked. (When I say 'we' I
don't me the nurse and me).
-
Two cars in the parking lot - ours and
one other person's, until about 5:30, when
the workday ended. Then there were
about 30; I figured it was workers or
construction guys sent to Scranton for
a job and put up at a cheap hotel by
their employers. 'Hey Frankie, wanna
go to Scranton for 8 weeks, all expenses
paid?' After the workday was over, the
place got more active. But no parking
lot hookers ever showed up. Probably
you have to ask.
-
Inside, my wife was watching 'Uncle Buck',
the movie - some John Candy Christmas
bullshit spectacular. Down in the lobby,
somehow Leonard Skynyrd was on the
jukebox, singing 'I Know a Little' - what
it was doing there I never knew. The
hallway was noisy, and my lamp wouldn't
work so I had to switch bulbs.
-
The doctor told me two version of what
could happen. Both had a 4% chance of
failure. I'm snakebit, like I told a friend,
and I can sense what's coming my way.
16 degrees Celsius, he says, in one version
is what they have to cool my body down
to so as to extricate my heart and put
me running to a heart and lung machine.
The other way is without doing that, which
is the way he wants - they stop my heart
for a bit and hook me over. I said, 'Do
they always restart?' He laughed, and
said, 'Yes. After 73 years it will probably
welcome a little rest anyway.' Joy to the
world; the Lord has come, I say!
-
Outside of all that, I'm numb as can be:
frozen in fear like an ice-pop in a heat
wave down at the park. Words can feel
me know, because it probably won't
matter anymore. I'll be the loneliest
guy on the slab? Damn I'm scared.
-
Maybe they'll call me the Breeze too,
after all this. I remember, being a kid,
when people got to the age I'm already
at, they were Mostly already dead. Will
anyone remember me? Damn, I want
to live.
-
I saw that '59 El Camino I mentioned
yesterday, and went out again, in the
afternoon today, trying to find where
I'd seen it. No luck. Kane Street or
Davis Street. Or along Rt. 11, through
Avoca. I know it's there. If I get a third
chance at this life (Oh thank you Jesus!),
I'll send that life finding that damn car again.
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