Last night I ate a sandwich and took a shower! I can chew and swallow again, and I don’t smell like a hospital any longer! Small things are beautiful.
One stray hospital memory: after the surgery, as they wheeled me up to the room, my main thought was I wish I had asked to keep the organ.
I felt an enormous chasm of regret opening in my brain. Then I remembered I’m not twelve years old.
Later when I confided these thoughts to Byron he said I had the same thought process. Plus it wouldn’t be very attractive if they were using words like “sludge” to describe what they took out of you.