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Dispatches from a Hospital Waiting Room

Just a quick note to bring y’all up to speed.

I’m still working on my Elysium review.  I hope to have it out before the week is out.  I also wanted to respond to Arsenal’s first game, but, given today’s great result in Turkey, I think I will wait like I did last year for after the transfer window closes and the North London Derby passes.  I also have a few other thoughts bubbling through my head.  But they’re still germinating.

I’ve spent the last two days in and out of hospital due to a major event with my father.  Naturally that takes precedence and, as I sit here, typing these words, he’s a floor below, having another MRI done.  They’re looking for an aneurysm or another culprit for a large dose of blood to be out into his cranium.  A few more minutes late in getting help and, doctors say, he would not have made it.

Obviously, moments like these act like massive reboots to the system.  The noise gets turned down.  The important stuff rises to the surface.  You’d hope that such measures would not be needed; that we could see the value in our lives and in the lives of those around us without the Angel of Death hovering over our heads (Sidebar: if you’re an atheist, what would be an appropriate analogy?  Standing on the edge of the abyss?  Staring at the maw of nothingness?)

It does help to put fanaticism — whether for sports, movies, TV, whatever — in the back burner.  Does it matter if Arsenal buy a CB?  Is it important that the Saints may not have a pass rush?  Within their context, of course.  In the overall scheme of life though, they are what gives color to the tapestry of your life, but they are not the thread nor the needle.

I may not be making much sense.  It’s what happens when you’re spending hours in uncomfortable furniture, freezing your tits off because the thermostat is set at -12 Kelvin and eating nothing but the worst of junk foods, worried about family members.

I just want to go a calendar year without setting foot into a hospital!


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