Monday, February 16, 2009

Operation



Hi everyone! I'm posting a small portion of my new essay, "The Washout." I don't know where it's going, but I'm sure I'll post it in its entirety at some point. Thanks for reading!

As I searched for the bride's $25 dollar tiara by the light of the full moon through four garbage bags, I wanted to weep. Not because I was a stranger to humiliation, not out of any misguided sense of lost youth. Both my parents and my friend had died in the last few years. Not because I wasn't the bride, not because I had enough champagne in my system to last through Truman Capote's Black and White Ball. No, I wanted to weep because I had an awful foreboding that I could not shake. The light from the moon illuminated everything in this wondrous way. True to my nature, I just wanted the world to be dark again.

Surrounded by tubes, the nurse soothed me. “No wonder you think you’re in Pizza Hut. It’s all this spaghetti around your neck.” My arms were covered with bruises and scratches where I had fought against the doctors and eventually restraints. The morphine kept me under a lot of the time until I got well enough to be moved to the surgical trauma unit. But before that, I was listed in critical condition and often hallucinated the kind doctor’s face as he leaned over me to prep me for surgery saying, "We’re very worried about you. You could die. You’re a very sick girl.” And for those days I prayed to either get well or die. My soul felt like that tiara -- fake, worthless, buried so deep in garbage that God might never find it.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"All children have to be deceived if they are to grow up without trauma." Kazuo Ishiguro

Cocktail Hour
Hope you enjoyed the Three Cherry Buddha! Suggestions for Friday?

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Monday!

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

I know a few people who love you so much their energies were transformed into a power that reached your soul.

David said...

Every now and then I remember to check this blog of yours, and it's short excerpts like these that keep me coming back.

David ~ Summer '08 Comp A course

Hope all is well

jodi said...

Hi Sweety, I think that all of our souls are tiara-like, our crowning glory. Sorry yours was so buried during that very scary time. xoxo

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chris said...

You could die ! What a hell of a statement for a Doctor to make.
But it could be that it might of helped your subchonchise thoughts to keep fighting for your life.

I was talking with the wife last night about being pushed to the edge. A person never really knows what they are capeable of doing until they are pushed.

I think you passed your,Test my limits test. When I had the nose done,The one thing that really buged me was the IV tube in my hand. They would have had to keep me knocked out for the duration.

You and your soul are not fake. I have met you once upon a time and can attest to your reality. Catch you later,best wishes.

Charles Gramlich said...

Very powerful. I could see this essay spinning off in many directions.

Anonymous said...

God doesn't look for things. He creates things.--Cardinal Spellman

the walking man said...

Maybe it's that I am three times your size, maybe it's because I walked willingly towards every date with the knife wielders and, maybe it's because I simply was pre-prepared to accept any outcome or maybe it was just that they never gave me enough Morphine to make me only sleep in the nether world of dreams and memory but whatever it was I never had any Detroit nurse trying to soothe me.

It was always "No goddamn it you can't smoke in here!" or "If you keep asking for more coffee, you son of a bitch, we're going to push your ass out the window."

I laughed the last one off because even I knew the windows wouldn't open that far and they were made of safety glass. Those weak ass nurses never would have been able to get the traction necessary to get me and my morphine through it.

All I can say O coney friend of mine is...glad you made it through and "fuck 'em"; you made it through.

Cheri said...

Damn appendix is like a ticking bomb. Just like those fucking tonsils I had out.

Scott said...

Michelle,

I can't wait to read the essay in it's entirety.

Take care and have a good week!

Whitenoise said...

powerful