Thursday, March 28, 2013
It had been six years since I'd seen Gabriel.
I remember waking up on an operating table after cardiac ablation --which was because I had a problem my old pacemaker couldn't correct. While gardening at a high school, my pulse increased to 250 beats per minute, about like a hummingbird, and I was discovered flitting from blossom to blossom. The campus entomology club convened an emergency posse and managed to catch me with several butterfly nets.
The procedure fixed my tachycardia and I woke in the electrophysiology lab in a hospital basement. Everybody was wearing surgical masks. A tall young man approached and said, "Hello Geo., I'm Gabriel." I told him I wasn't surprised but hadn't expected him to be in scrubs. He laughed and explained he was my nurse. We would remember each other.
Six years passed and then, four days ago, I again found myself being prepped for surgery in that same basement. This time I was to get a new pacemaker, state of the art, better than the old wind-up ones or those noisy diesel things.
I saw a familiar figure. "Hello Gabriel."
"Hi Geo. It's been a while."
"Still in scrubs, I see."
"As long as I need to be. You've got a busy morning ahead."
That was Monday. I elected to recover at home instead of upstairs in the hospital so I went home that afternoon. This means I've been only lightly supervised, taking pain pills and various medicines that make me feel taller on one side than the other and back again. Now it's Thursday and Norma has told me I've had several conversations, seemingly coherent conversations, with a number of people. Problem is, I have no recollection of them. My powers are under a cloud. So if I've made any comments on peoples' blogs this week that may not reflect strict sobriety or that express regrets to the Czar regarding services rendered to the Hapsburgs, please understand Gabriel couldn't do everything.