THE SECOND TRANSPLANT

I’m less pissed off now that I’m in the hospital-there’s nothing in my control-all right, not much-they still can’t make up their mind one dose or two of chemo
New rules-nasal and anal swabbing in case there was any modicum of privacy left. Maybe I can stick my butt up in the air. Francis already inspected my hemorrhoids and reported they were quite benign. Amazing what becomes good information. Sitting for six hours in the past meant great concert seats or a layover in Europe waiting for a charter flight that may or may not have left without me.
Now in my 50’s, it means checking into your transplant suite. The first time I was admitted to the hospital, I treated my room like my college dorm and filled it with many things that I loved. I felt cheerful most of the time. So far I’m just irritated.
I want to write something but my drama isn’t dramatic, my humor isn’t funny and my fairytale isn’t light.
This return from the hospital sends me to my room this time instead of planting me in on the couch in front of the TV. Maybe I’ll watch less TV and hole out in here until the coast is clear.
Now this second stay in the hospital was a replica of the first in terms of medical response, but I had no heart for it I had no heart to be that me I needed quiet I felt a smoldering rage I was disappointed by nearly everyone and everything and asked for no visitors infrequently answered the phone I didn’t want to put on a happy face nor did I want to complain to too many people a brave girl, remarkable woman blah. Blah
I missed Jerry a lot not that I had any illusion that if he were there I would have been disappointed, but it was that unincorporated memory-maybe sense memory that can fill my body with a feeling it runs through my blood stream some would call it a chemical imbalance it can be a pain but the feelings I feel are so vivid they have color and temperature cause me to release my muscles and surrender to the feeling not fear it, not fiercely protect myself I could always rest and rejuvenate with Jerry until things went really bad.
I want to feel that kind of love again I need a little more codependence I know it’s not in vogue and that I should be in recovery looking for healthy choices for a man who won’t pander to my illness I don’t know how to ask for it or how to find it who has the time I long for love.
All the voices that I spin around me trying to tell me what to say-can I fly right behind you and you can take me way just while I crying thru my typing Nora Jones is singing about what I want. I certainly can’t get it without giving up my anger and self-loathing.