- Hospital air infiltrates my brain like formaldehyde. It is pickled and now mostly says things like zzzzzzz and huh?.
- Despite the brain-pickling effects, I could not wait to go back to see the Palinode after his surgery. I hated leaving his vulnerable, unconscious self in the hands of other humans.
- When the nurses wheeled his bed back into the room, I gasped. I am not normally much of a gasper, being that it is an activity largely peculiar to lowbrow television and movie characters defined as uptight, but there I was, doing just that, because, mother of freaking vinegar, he was lying flat on his back. I have not seen him lie flat on his back since about last February, because his back has been too bent and his muscles have been too tight to allow for anything beyond a semi-fetal position. It was almost too good to believe, and I barely recognized his body beneath the green hospital sheet.
- After the surgery, we talked until he started falling in and out of sleep.
I got my copy of The Charlie Brown Dictionary.
You should hear the entry about the colour black.
They said you could have little soup later.
Huh? Oh? What? I thought I was saying all these things to you, but it was all in my head. That's disconcerting.
Had he actually been talking, he probably would have said something along the lines of Oh. Gawd. Shut. Up., because transcribing my side of the conversation has made me wonder why I even added this point to the list.
- He was snoring and contented on morphine when I left, and I spent the last five minutes watching an artery in his neck bump-bump-bump under his skin and thinking how lucky I am to be able to see that.
- The moon was a fat, yellow sliver low in the sky during my walk home. I stood and watched that for five minutes, too.
- The Palinode will be home within the next day or two, and I cannot wait to join him in bed and watch stupid movies while he recuperates. We will eat potato chips, put stuff on our cats, and make out during the slow bits.
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