The second night in the hospital was worse. (...life, usually preferable to death, affirmation to sacred pulse, the inhalation of breath, to that sweet nectar defined as living, acknowledging that doctors, nurses, hospital personnel indeed played a hand in my care and my eventual recovery, I must now straightforwardly assert it was Magic’s love which saw me through, delivery being a fixed idea of such a mind set beyond ken of mere mortals such as myself, consistent as the captain of all cosmic existence, zeal ranging from light laughter to heavenly rapture, a survivor--me--in the hands of this Magic being a conduit for efficacious mend, recognizing the human hands-on busywork ala IV’s, hypodermics, vials of blood and lab application, siphoning of bodily fluid via catheter, to wit, the pernicious virus having been verified--or the humble, hard-working maid who with gloves and bleach and sponge sanitizes commode and sink and tile wall without so much as a finger lift from Magic... nevertheless I have to say as I stand here before you, so glad to be well, that it was Magic’s love which carried me, Magic’s love which shall be credited above all these other simple, incidental, so-so and hum-drum human trivialities...) I am so glad to be well. 30 Lines Writer’s Cramp 10-29-14 |