discharged from roosevelt hospital. e.k.g., enzymes, blood sugar, platelets, liver function, pancreas, kidneys are all normal. it’s not a stroke, it’s not a heart attack, it’s not a collapsed lung, a wayward pancreas, a liver in revolt. why i should be in agony for thirty six hours, feeling like a sword has been plunged into my chest is a mystery medical science is not yet able to solve. but the solution? intravenous ativan and as it entered my veins i thought “noooo!” because i have worked so hard to be free of this drug and then “please, yes” as the sword–like excalibur by arthur–was pulled from my chest. . . i am without pain, sleepy, and just want to find my way home.
i have worked very hard to defeat ativan and now i am told it is my master. for a few days, a few months, the rest of my life, i don’t know.
a few months ago, i made a commitment to break up with ativan. i saw him a little less, refused his blandishments, told him i didn’t want to go out anymore. i thought he understood. but he’s a seductive pill. sweet talking, seemingly harmless, whispering sweet somethings in my ear. and when he was combined with mr. pinot grigio, i was as pliable as the butter i forgot to put back in the refrigerator after i made the breakfast toast.
what next? i don’t know. i have to go down on my own to the airport, and find my way home. and maybe there, i can shut the door and make the world and its swords and slings and arrows go away.