The experiences of the past little while are thankfully over. An internal debate has been raging, should I record this experience, or should I remain silent in hopes that it will not happen again, to anyone. It will not happen to me again, as I will take drastic measures to prevent it, once was enough.
That was me. Attila was in the nearby crowded waiting-room, waiting patiently and respectfully for news of my well-being. That news was finally available well after dark, when the light had long faded from the high, wire meshed window in that ghastly cubicle where I lay, when at last a doctor examined me.
I was immediately removed to a bed in another area of the hospital, where I received fluids and medication intravenously, and had access to help if I needed it. Over the next day I received excellent care and a good assessment of my health problem, from busy and competent people. I have returned home, feeling a bit battered, but definitely on the mend.
The lines that ran through my head, during those long hours that I lay exhausted with fear, pain, and misery, were from a screenplay of Dickens’ "A Christmas Carol”:
It seems these words have been lost in the sea of political and economic rhetoric. There may be no individual to blame for incidents such as the one I experienced. Our social priorities are seriously out of order.
I feel as a people we can do better than this.
Right now, all I can say is, “Home, sweet home.”
|RECIPES :: Cast
The Beauty of
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Sunset 8:58 PM EDT
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