October 30: Pneumonia and Died, Low Blood Sugar, Ambulance

I started thinking how old Phoebe would feel if I got pneumonia and died.  It was a childish way to think, but I couldn't stop myself...

 Holden does get very sick in Catcher, but he doesn't die.  He ends up in a hospital, recuperating, but his condition doesn't have a whole lot to do with pneumonia.  He's depressed to the point of a nervous breakdown.

Stress can do a lot of things to a person.  For Holden, it unhinges him.  All his pent-up fear and sadness comes spilling out at the end of the book.  Last night, stress got the best of me.  I went to bed, fell asleep, and woke up with EMS guys in my bedroom.  My blood sugar was eleven, and I was having seizures.

I don't know why it happened.  I tested my blood sugar and ate a snack before I went to bed.  I remember being really tired when I climbed under the covers.  So tired I couldn't keep my eyes open.  And then, I'm having some weird dream where my arm is being stretched out by dark, shadowy figures.  I remember strange, deep voices, too.  And then I woke up with an IV in my arm.

Because of my close encounter of the ambulance kind this morning, I've been tired and achy all day long.  I want to go to bed and stay there for about a week.

Pneumonia is sounding pretty good to Saint Marty right now.

Been there, done this...

August 24: Pneumonia and Die, an Apology, an Appendix

Finally I sat down on this bench, where it wasn't so goddam dark.  Boy, I was still shivering like a bastard, and the back of my hair, even though I had my hunting hat on, was sort of full of little hunks of ice.  That worried me.  I thought probably I'd get pneumonia and die...

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