she's a little teapot

For five days.

They've got her wrapped up in bandages all around her left side and down her left arm and then there's this huge metal splint thing going from her ribcage to her left bicep, keeping her arm straight out.

If you do the "I'm a little teapot, short and stout..." bit and then stop once your spout is out and then hold that pose until Tuesday, you'll be doing an Imitation of Walsh.

Or just try it for three minutes.

Yeah. No fun.

For you med school kids, yesterday Dr. Bessey did a "tangential excision and Integra placement to the upper left extremity and torso." Least that's what we signed off for.

God knows what they actually do once the patient is out. Sit around and talk about how they're going to spend all of that crazy money, probably. Smoke cigarettes and play poker. I don't care, long as she comes back whole.

The bandages are so thick, it looks like she's getting ready to train attack dogs up there in the Burn Unit. Zero exaggeration. It's good, because there's now no danger of accidentally hurting the wound. You could throw tennis balls at the wound and she wouldn't notice.

But this is going to be a tough five days. Go back to the teapot pose and try to walk around. Pour yourself a glass of juice. Take a nap.

Yeah. No good.

I'm getting notes from UPS and the post office when I get home at night, so if anyone is trying to send us packages, best bet is to send them right to the hospital. We don't have a doorman (hell we haven't had an elevator for the last five years) and our post office branch, the Knickerbocker Station, is some kind of cosmic cruel joke. Bunch of sullen Chinese guys and somehow it's always everyone's first day on the job.

What would be helpful right now would be for me to give you the address of the hospital.

Uhhh...

New York Presbyterian Weill Medical Center Cornell Something? Up on 68th and York? Street address is 525 E. 68th, I know that. And she's in room 8-401.

I've been up there for a minimum of ten hours a day for the last nine days and I honestly couldn't tell you what it's called. And for some reason I don't feel like looking it up. In my head it's called:

The Hospital
Where Nan Is
Uptown, Take the Drive
Unbelievable, New York
911-911-Someone-Call-911

So try that or try this new "The Google" thing I've been reading about.

It occurred to me last night that there are some things you almost never see, like a mean pediatric nurse or a really cool collection agency. Just doesn't happen. I guess you have to be careful about the job you choose. You are what you think, but what you do all day teaches you how to think. I've heard cops talk about getting "cop eyes", where you instinctively size up people, walk into a room looking for trouble. We all know those performers who are never off-stage, even when you're stuck in a cab with them, just trying to go home. You talk to veterinarians and you think, "What a cool, relaxed person."

That's why I've decided to face up to it and join the priesthood. Nancy may not understand, but I'm going to marry Christ and make an honest man out of him.

Do priests marry Christ or just move in with him? Nuns marry Christ, I know that. Priests just become domestic living partners with Christ, I guess. Except in Hawaii.

I've got to do some research on this.