(no subject)
This evening I borrowed a mouse from my brother so I could find my resume on the dead computer. The thing was slowly eaten by viruses during my last semester of college, and I lost the mouse, with my two favorite necklaces, on that really smelly evening last July when I moved out of my apartment by myself. Don’t ever move by yourself. You will sweat so much that hives will grow all over your arms.
Today in the ER waiting room a man came in and told the receptionist that his mother had just been diagnosed with a terminal illness. I was eating Nutrigrain bars. He said he lived on Gilbert, and I wondered what was going through his mind when he decided to put on his coat and walk all the way over from Gilbert to Bloomington St., because when I think of ERs I think of blood. He told the receptionist that he was in a lot of pain, a lot of anxiety, and when she answered a phone call on the side he started to pace wildly. I thought about how we are in the same position, even though we are decades apart. It surprised me that I knew how he was feeling, because I had forgotten, momentarily, why I was there today. Until he walked in, I was just eating granola bars.
Dad, do you want this to be over? I don’t think you can ask somebody that, but there are so many tubes coming out of his arms. When he was seizing this morning, I had his head against my chest and I was thinking, Dad, do you want this to be over?
It was like in April, when I had this incredible, overwhelming urge to chop down trees. I know how that guy felt in the ER, today.
Don’t worry. Mom and I turned on that woodworking show on PBS after dinner and tucked him in. He looked peaceful, he loves that show. Discharge is tomorrow, after Mom catches up on her hours at work.
I haven’t touched my college computer since moving home. It takes about a half hour for the computer to turn on and breathe. It is dusty now, and chatters in a confused sort of way. When I opened up my resume I didn’t remember myself or recognize the accolades. I felt alienated from my old writing, too. It was good writing. It was like when women pull out their wedding dress and say, how did I fit into that? There’s a picture of me jumping off my roommate’s futon, pretending to play the trombone.
Today in the ER waiting room a man came in and told the receptionist that his mother had just been diagnosed with a terminal illness. I was eating Nutrigrain bars. He said he lived on Gilbert, and I wondered what was going through his mind when he decided to put on his coat and walk all the way over from Gilbert to Bloomington St., because when I think of ERs I think of blood. He told the receptionist that he was in a lot of pain, a lot of anxiety, and when she answered a phone call on the side he started to pace wildly. I thought about how we are in the same position, even though we are decades apart. It surprised me that I knew how he was feeling, because I had forgotten, momentarily, why I was there today. Until he walked in, I was just eating granola bars.
Dad, do you want this to be over? I don’t think you can ask somebody that, but there are so many tubes coming out of his arms. When he was seizing this morning, I had his head against my chest and I was thinking, Dad, do you want this to be over?
It was like in April, when I had this incredible, overwhelming urge to chop down trees. I know how that guy felt in the ER, today.
Don’t worry. Mom and I turned on that woodworking show on PBS after dinner and tucked him in. He looked peaceful, he loves that show. Discharge is tomorrow, after Mom catches up on her hours at work.
I haven’t touched my college computer since moving home. It takes about a half hour for the computer to turn on and breathe. It is dusty now, and chatters in a confused sort of way. When I opened up my resume I didn’t remember myself or recognize the accolades. I felt alienated from my old writing, too. It was good writing. It was like when women pull out their wedding dress and say, how did I fit into that? There’s a picture of me jumping off my roommate’s futon, pretending to play the trombone.