Talking To Chalk Drawings Is A Bad Sign :: When Real Life Gets Too Real

On Monday Morning, 1 May 2011, there was jubilation in the streets.  Or so I've been told.  For while the rest of my fellow citizens were either celebrating the death of our collective Bogey Man or fretting over whether or not they should or if it was unseemly to let on or whatever... I was lying in an emergency room, being stuck with needles and hooked up to hosepipes and machines that go "Bing!" and wondering idly what the fuss was all about.

I was severely dehydrated and the victim of a raging infection that had been rampaging unchecked like visigoths through my system for the better part of two days.

Put it this way: When President Obama was telling the nation that Bin Laden has been killed, I was having an imaginary conversation with a charcoal drawing that was sitting on the edge of my bed, deeply concerned that I get ahead of the "Building Computers Out Of Sticks" market.

Yes, really.

There was also a firm belief that lasted for the better part of a night that I had been portioned-out and served into the various sections of a massive cafeteria tray.

This is truly the stuff of my subconscious laid bare.


It is amusing (now) but not entirely to my credit that I sort of just took it all without complaint. Needless to say I had a fever, but there were other things going on and my wife could not respond wisely to this rather alarming turn of events. Neither my portioning by a mysterious cabal of cafeteria ladies nor my conversations with my charcoal computer-adviser came up in conversation.

Maybe if I'd taken the charcoal fellow up on his suggestion, it would have ended in the ER a bit sooner. I've never tried convincing my engineer wife that I need twigs and wire brought to me in our bedroom, no-questions-asked, but I put heavy odds on hospitalization soon to follow.. As it is, for whatever reason I didn't tell her about it until much later in the hospital.

Anyway, a visit to the doctor's office gave rise to a debate about whether my wife would drive  me to the hospital or I was going in an ambulance. Before I knew it, everything was needles, hosepipes, and machines that go "Bing!"

I know I'm being vague, but this is the internet and that's how that goes.

I was inside for the better part of two days before they were comfortable that I was lucid, hydrated, and the infection under control. The various ongoing meds have left me a bit woozy when I do things like look at computer monitors and try to sit upright for more than an hour or so, so as far as the blog is concerned, I'll be in and out for the next couple of weeks.

My marching orders going forward (actual words from an actual doctor) "Talking to chalk drawings is a bad sign." By which I take it that being portioned out on a cafeteria tray is perfectly normal.

Duly noted, Doc.

Thank you to those who were aware of what was going on for your well-wishes. Sorry to those of you who weren't, but this wasn't a pleasant thing and you wouldn't have wanted me to share it with you. Trust me.

And yeah. The Bin Laden thing... I don't know what to say about that.

Twig computers though, will most certainly be huge.