Yes, Holden comes close to dying in Catcher. By the end of the book, he's really sick, mentally and physically. But he's a survivor. You never doubt that. He's going to pick up the pieces of his life and live it on his own terms, no matter what. I think that's why Holden is such an iconic figure in American literature. He speaks the truth, and he calls out people who are false in any way.
Well, I owe all of my disciples an apology for pulling a disappearing act these last couple of days. I swear I haven't been in hiding or on some desert pilgrimage. I have done a lot of praying, though. A lot. But it wasn't deep and theological. It was more like, "Please, help me, God. Help me. Help. Help."
I ended up in the ER last night after experiencing stomach pain all day. I got there at 7 p.m., and I was in the operating room by a little after midnight. I thought it was some kind of gallbladder attack, that I was going to get some pain medication and be sent home. Instead, the ER doc came in after my CT scan and said, "Well, you have appendicitis." Pretty soon, a surgeon was standing next to my bed, and within the hour, I was talking to an anesthesiologist.
Yes, I gave birth to a bouncing, pink, inflamed appendix. I think I'm going to name her Pia, because she's given me quite a pain in the ass. Hospitals don't keep patients very long anymore. I was discharged around 11 a.m. today.
I'm sore. Tired. Hungry. And in need of another pain pill pretty soon. I'm going to try to get back in the saddle pretty soon, but, tonight, this little apology/explanation is all I can manage. I'll try to be a little more creative tomorrow.
Right now, Saint Marty needs to get his little Pia to bed.
|I think she has my eyes|