Another CT scan today, at the UCSF radiology lab at Mission Bay in the old China Basin building, followed by the strict admonition to avoid caffeine, which has placed a gummy caffeine-withdrawal membrane over the visible world, and made thoughts extremely hard to come by.
While lying supine on the CT machine slab that cranked my carcass back and forth inside the doughnut, my only thought of any dimension at all was that inside that booth where they were watching the images of my insides, looks of horror crossed their faces: "What in God's name is that?! one said. "What is that?"
Some primordial thing living on my thigh bone perhaps, munching contentedly on my sartorius muscle, idly snapping my adductor longus, planting a garden, growing snap peas and turnips. Or my long-lost car keys, that leather wallet not seen for years: There it is! Thank God for modern medical imaging!
That's the state you get in.
Nothing much more than that. Nothing but my ardent complaint that all this medical business and the attendant life issues, i.e., getting my stuff in order so I can languish in the hospital for four weeks or more without sinking the ship of state is seriously cutting into the writing time.
Plus: Strangely enervating, all this sitting in medical offices and getting stuck with needles.
But that's the job. Nothing to do but roll with it. It could be curiously liberating if seen in the right light.
Just where is that right light? Could you shine it just a little this way please?
Ah. Better. Life. Another day. Not bad.
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