Wednesday, March 18, 2009
March 18th 1989: Same Old Song
Yea, yea, the anniversary of the day I was hit by the car. Happened before I met Sid Williams, but I thought this bar in Blue Island had a cool sign, and it was taken the weekend before the accident, and everything I am wearing in that photos was shredded. I tried to take a decent webcam shot of the middle of my left forearm where there is missing bone and poked my finger in my cheek where I am missing four of my bottom teeth. (I wasn't going to wear a partial at the age of 29).
That lady that died tonight from the skiing accident. She felt fine, then got dizzy later. There are events that simply do not exist in my immediate family's lives, its as if I followed a different string reality and then course-corrected back into the one I share with them, you, and, unfortunately, everyone on Fox News. The two bones in my left forearm were severed and I was not operated on for six days. There was a reason for this, the first photo shows how my arm was wrapped. I was hit on a Saturday, it was much worse weather than it is today, there was ice on the ground and snow remnants on the curbs. Ended up I could not be operated on right away because there were a bunch of gang fatalities from Marquette Park, which was right across California Avenue from Holy Cross. I guess I should be grateful for those punks and their skirmish. I had been knocked out with Demerol and came out of it around 3 PM. I turned my head and it was like my eyes had spilled out of my skull on bungee cords. I was so scared by this that I pissed all over myself. I was petrified to move my head again, even when the neurologist asked me to. I had three contusions over my right eye. If the doctors had operated, I might have died from the bleeding in my brain. My scarlet sponge brain. Every day I had CT scans and the occasional MRI. Finally things looked safe enough to get my arm sewed back on. My folks seem not to remember that, only that I had broken my arm. I don't care, but its a tell on why I'll talk about my father more than I will my mother or my sister. I can imagine that lady being okay after her ski accident and not realize she'd be dead in a day. I try not to remember those minutes when I couldn't call for the nurse and my eyesight just bonged back and forth and its just so damn hard to explain it was like someone physically slapping my eyesight back and forth and I felt myself the warmth of my urine and could only drool until the nurse arrived.