Texting from the Death Bed

There I am, knickers torn apart*, lying on the table with a tall dark stranger pressing down hard on my groin. For 15 minutes. It hurts.

We discuss tea and the weather.

He offers to show me revealing pictures of my brain, but then the camera screen stops working. He starts looking at another screen, a computerised 3d image of a skull from various angels. Impressive.

“Is that me?” I ask

“No” he says, “that’s another patient”

And I feel jealous. How dare my surgeon be considering someone else whilst he’s still finishing my operation!

Now days you can use mobile phones in hospitals**. How odd this is. There I am forbidden from moving my body but I’m still able to answer my phone. I have a fancy phone now so I can also use email, Facebook, camera, as if nothing was wrong. Good in some ways as 5hours of being very awake and only able to move your arms is difficult. Bad because the temptation to ¬†Facebook/Twitter/ text the world to death with a running commentary is overwhelming. Think I may facebook/skybe my next operation, sneek the phone into the operating room, even skype my own death!

In the shower this morning I looked down at my body and thought “wow, a tiny tube is put in an artery in my right leg and is fed through all the way up to my brain. That is amazing!” But this time it hurts more than last and I wonder how many more tubes my body can take.

After all I am basically fine.

*Luckily these are not my own knickers, they are one-use-only disposable knickers provided by the hospital. I don’t understand the purpose of them, they’re flimsy and see through.


3 thoughts on “Texting from the Death Bed”

  1. im glad you are basically fine.

    when i was house sitting two cats in Berlin this summer, the owner of the flat, she was going through the very same operation, and hanging up near the top of her very tall window were x rays of her brain for the sun to go through – what sun you could get from apartment block light. I hadnt known what she was going into the hospital for until I had the keys and I asked and was astonished. I had just been thinking of you on the train.

    I didnt know this woman, hadnt met her before, except that she was a friend of my friends and involved in the Berlin art/music scene. She was an artist and her modest but spacious flat had the feel of it – her life was on display. she sewed, and there were different styles of material around, and sketches of ideas, a couple of mannequins too.. There were little stacks of flyers for local noise/punk shows that I was guessing she had made. There was an Electric guitar in the corner too, and an amplifier and a casstte recorder, so she also played music. and despite the graphic comics of human organs splashing out everywhere and doing odd comical things, which were fun to read and pass the time with, there was an air of light and laceyness to her flat, vaguely 1950ish.

    The cats were wary of me at first, hiding behind the mannequins, but by the second day they were rolling on to their backs to have their bellies scratched. By the the 3rd day it felt like I was living this girls life. Going to the shop, doing the dishes, feeding the cats, eating at the sewing table which had a clear view across to the other room with the x-rays.

    Didnt make much sound the whole time, just took in the silence, immersed. Cats didnt like it much when I set up to rehearse. At the end I was reluctant to leave the keys on the kitchen counter and lock the door behind me, but in my mind I wished this woman well to return to so much of herself she had there in the flat.

      1. It was a very strange coincidence. I had headed to Berlin in a very philosophical inward state of mind, hoping for answers, or a release of some sort, and also i knew that i wanted to soon make the effort to meet you again, and there i was the first evening looking up at her x-rays thinking aloud to myself ‘youre kidding me’. Her life and energy/creativity and situation so much echo’d yours.
        Yes it would make a good arty film indeed, I took alot in while i was there. Her flat would certaintly suit a film, as would the performance i saw you do the minute i returned to London.

        It looks like i might be going back there again soon – if she’s well, yes there’s probably a good chance I’ll meet her. i hope so.

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