A condemned man sits waiting for his last meal, then his last rites. And then the end of his world.
Ruth Deming looks at her watch: 11:25 pm. The clock is ticking. About two hours ago the Percoset began working. Gone was the totality of the pain, one brushstroke less of pain than the miserable corkscrew-like piercing of my left butt and sharp jabs down the leg and on into the foot.
This is why people become drug addicts. You can't live like this.
How shall I celebrate the temporary let-up?
Eating almonds and a huge hunk of Gouda cheese was a nice way. I was sitting on my downstairs bed. Scott came down the steps. I told him I saved him some potato soup for tomro. He'd tasted it earlier and pronounced it delicious. Back then I was in my usual sciaticagony, unlike now when the bulk of the pain's gone.
Since it's Scott's "weekend" - and also his week-long vacation - I marched over to his house to spend the nite. Here I am, with Scott snoring gently next to me.
How can I celebrate the diminished pain, I wondered.
We walked to his house together.
Let's take the long way, I said, so I can appreciate the world.
No sounds in the barely darkening nite. Where are the crickets? Not a soul was on the street, not even the skinny black n white stray cat who comes round our houses, and then scampers away across the street when we try to get close. Careful now crossing Cowbell.
I stood next to Scott's lamp-post, a very fifties modern affair, that was there when he moved in.
Why, it's as tall as me, I noticed for the first time. And looked at it in appreciation of my surcease from pain.
Looked also at the colorless sky and thanked it for my brief reprieve.
Next day, today actually, received a call from Nurse Nancy at Einstein. Dr Kung gave his approval for my back surgery on Weds., August 3.
My daughter Sarah called me this morning. She reminded me of the tragic story of Dallas Cowboy star Ron Springs who got a kidney transplant from teammate Everson Wells.
Eight months after his transplant, Ron underwent an operation for minor surgery. However, due to his transplant, he was high risk. He never regained consciousness after the surgery and remained in a coma.
Ron's wife is suing two of the doctors. The affidavit or afikomen or whatever it's called from the Texas lawyer reads: Rookie physician chosen for high-risk patient.
At Sarah's suggestion, I called Dr Guy Lee's office and left a message w/ the secretary that we need to be real careful.
Yes, we can do it!!!