| Sunday, 24-Oct-2004 00:00 |
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My Best Friend.
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Good Morning!!! 7:15 a.m. from my central living room where the physical reality serves the virtually reality, an entrance ramp to the global village. This is where strangers are kinder then relatives, neighbors, everyday job people. This is where sincerity is measured with trust, gains are weighed in kindness, something always gives in a photograph. There is an understanding here quietly going about its business.
This has been a good week for Joe. I compose these sentences with guarded optimism. He is still in the Intensive Care Unit, LakeWest Hospital, Willoughby, Ohio, east of Cleveland, less than a half hour by vehicle.
This was a good week for Rose. She has seen her two trips a day to the hospital result in Joe breathing a little stronger, no additional infections in his lower intestines, no mounting white blood cell count countering infections.
Was it Joe's stubborn personality? Was it Rose's giving of herself, afterall they have been married for fifty years. Was it the doctors, the nurses, the technology, was it luck?
For now everyone and everything gets some credit. For now, I thank the friendly strangers here who have posted messages wishing prayers, praying for wishing, wondering, strengthening my own artist talents, in turn, trusting myself, in turn understanding myself, a man in his fifties.
For now, with great caution, Joe was breathing stronger these last two days, two extra machines removed around him, a few less bills down the reality road, more hopes every minute, another hour.
Joe didn't want to watch college football on his cable TV in his hospital room. He did want another sip of cool water, for now.
For now, the suit I bought a week ago has been set aside, for now it is not a death suit, a funeral costume, instead, it will be a suit to numb out a few normals at a daytime job, a local bureaucracy in a junkyard encased in see through denial, too late to set the dynamite in an exact place that would have removed the casings, made the personality feel like a new arrival on another planet.
If there are aliens in the universe, there is a reason why they don't announce their arrival to us, to this world, we just don't get it. We just don't get it when the health is cruising around in the heartbeats. It's taken for granted, too often, encased in see through denial.
For now, there is a lit candle in a room with the door slightly open. The rest of the room is dark and mysterious and chancy. I could trip over the furniture on the way in. With the door slightly ajar, with a small lit candle smiling with a small ray of hope, I thank my lucky stars that understanding is my best friend.
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