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<strong> This is the 17th day of being flat on a bed,</strong> mine or hospital.<strong> I'm home now, supposedly better but walking across three rooms of the house brings on fits of gasping for air.</strong> I didn't need to be - and here's another thing, I just forgot the word where you're intubated with an air hose - it didn't get to that point. <strong> When I went to the emergency room I hadn't had anything to eat in six days. My mind was (and remains) a mess.</strong> They asked me if I'd had a bowel movement lately and I stalled them by replying "not sure". I had a vague idea what the process entailed - I pictured valves - and started to Google "bowel movement" before I remembered. <strong> I'm trying to get whatever thought structures I used to employ to work again.</strong> It requires air so I sit at my desk for long stretches waiting for enough - what - air pressure to build and a thought to appear? The worst: I still have nightmares of the food they brought me. They'd set down the tray, I'd uncover and do the big reveal. It would be the opposite of what I ordered and cold when it was supposed to be hot and hot when it was supposed to be cold. This is nothing though.<strong> This is the best of all worlds. My wife just finished Stage 1 breast cancer and I had just gotten back from taking her to her parents in Florida to spend a month recuperating. So she's just had to deal with me long distance away from danger.</strong>
February 21, 2021