here comes the pain

The drugs make me wonder who or where I am, especially when I wake up in the night fearing that an episode of South Park has been rigged as an elaborate trap to put my mind into a feedback loop, or that I’m arguing with the paintings on the walls that they can’t be Catholic because they don’t have 12″ figures of themselves, but then they tell me about Obi-Wan Kenobi and General Grievous’ bodyguard, and the painting hanging over me drips blood on me, but in a friendly way, you understand. I know when I awake that I have to head down the hall, because there I will find Buzz Bunny (yes, Buzz, the new extreeeeme version of Bugs).

When I get there I see myself in the mirror. Remember. Stomach cramp. Commode. A small emmission of fluid, but the cramp had to be obeyed nonetheless.

I’m not used to drugs. One of these is a strong mofo called Cipro, which you may remember from the fall of 2001 as the only known antidote to anthrax.

If you think the regular smells of bodily emmissions are bad, try to imagine what it would be like if all your secretions smelled like household chemicals. Minus lemon-freshness, of course.

My necrotic appendix shut down my digestive system. Now it has to learn how to work all over again. Wore a diaper out of the hospital and crapped myself three times on the way home. Shame disappears very quickly in these circumstances. In fact, I think I’ll actually miss the bedside commode.

Knowing this, reader, and knowing also that a plastic tube in my stomach was ever-pumping red and yellow crud from my insides out, you may understand why I asked for no visitors. Indeed, my natural tendency is to suffer in silence — that may be bad — but I was also sparing you. I very much enjoyed the phone calls, though, and Matt and Brian read me some of your well-wishes over the phone. I felt the support, truly, and my friends have all been amazing, those whom I’ve heard from.

I missed System of a Dwon, and Hitchhiker’s Guide. I may have lost my scene in ROMAN. Hope not. But I snatched my life away from gangrene’s foul clutches. If there is a sentient deity, her plan for me is not yet fulfilled.

I have read all the amils and heard most of the phone messages. All my info is not to hand at the moment, as I recoup in Carlsbad, but I hope to respond to each and all when I can, to repay some of the kindness. Many of you are as family to me, and I to you. I know this. And know that all your love is returned.

I am on my way back. The last week has been the worst of my life, but since Monday, every day has been exponentially better than the one prior.

Be strong and be well. I’ll try to do the same.

–Luke.