My room doesn’t look the same today; in fact, I think it looks like an entirely new space, with only the kids’ art and various pictures and notes I’d taped up to suggest I am still in the same room I’ve inhabited for nearly 20 days. I think the transformation occurred on Day +1, but I didn’t realize it right away; I’d assumed I’d get maddeningly bored by the sameness that surrounded me, so I ignored the first hints. Besides all that is so “Yellow Wallpaper”y, right?
OK, full disclosure, the potent sleep medicine they have given me lately, at increasingly late hours, may have had some influence on this post. It certainly has made for some pretty wacky morning meetings when the nurses change over and new doctors pay their social calls: imagine me as a puerile, hung-over teen rock star surrounded by his manager, financial advisors, creditors, in-laws, etc who are all fighting for a fragment (figment?) of his elusive (illusory?) attention. Such an imaginary person, feeling as I do at such a time, might say, or think, “If my throat weren’t in such bad shape, I would denounce the vapidity of your attempts at expression. However, since I can barely finish a sentence without my headache bursting my backwards baseball cap, I will do us all a favor and drift off for a bit more of the sleep I ought to have gotten last night.”
However, I digress. I feel this room is different, reoriented somehow (and the foot of the bed has definitely shifted towards the window, by the way, and I don’t want it fixed; I like the asymmetry). My kids like those Time Traveller books (the ones where a helmeted dweeb visits ancient Rome, medieval times, Egypt in its pomp etc) and I’m thinking maybe this room feels like it has changed because it has moved me back and forth through my own biological transplant time; it took me through some pretty fetid catacombs, and it started to feel like a crypt. Now it’s taking me out of the most morbid scenario (engraftment never happens, I shrivel up and crumple like a moth-eaten manuscript) and into pastures new. The daylight, once just an abstract brightness from beyond, can now enter the room and belong.
One thought on “Day +13”
Well, Brad, we’re delighted to read your latest. Seems your recent fever hasn’t managed to arrest your interesting reflections on life in the bubble.