Reporting LIVE from Glendale Memorial Hospital - 11:30 pm update -
so a lot of people *always* complain about friends who tweet or post about the 'wonderful' sandwich they just had or how great that foot massage feels (*while* they're getting it), and i have never seen the appeal of reporting in from the supermarket line or the carwash.
and then here i am, in the cardiac ward of the hospital on one more saturday night, and i thinks to myself, "well, why not?"
so i'm here to tell you that the food is somewhat adequate and too salty (!)... but the people here are cool and helpful and great in pretty much every respect.
had a nap for like three hours in the ER after they told me to forget getting any morphine. like they stopped all attention when they realised i wasn't gonna croak on the spot, so i had all that time to snooze. because of that, i was keyed up when we got to the CW... thinking, "well, my doc says i should get exercise every day, and i just had that nap."
so here i am taking a stroll around the floor, like on my seventeenth lap when this charge nurse pulls me over for speeding!
yah, i was shocked too. "too fast?" says i. "how can you tell?"
"heart rate's over a hundred," says she, "so get in the slow lane or i'll run you in." (parts of this exchange might not be verbatim)
just got me a nightcap (full liter bag of Saline Light - "breakfast of former champions!") - dominic the cheerful orderly guy just brought it in, sans paper umbrella.
"cheers!" i said as i first tasted the metallic flavor hitting my taste buds.
he looked at me slanticular and smiled: "sure!"
not sure if that "signs of the times" magazine came from him, but it was an interesting angle to see the world from.
moms came earlier and brought me some enchiladas - she smuggled them in wrapped in an old new yorker, so i'm set for now: food and reading. check. (see accompanying photo, live from the scene)
breakfast will be another story. longing for tacos. wistfully remembering the best tacos in ensenada (in hollywood with capt slanty). or those ones actually *in* ensenada. or those ones in mazatlan. or those ones at hotel colonial just south of rosarito with ric. or mi tierra. yah, it's tough in glendale on a saturday night: yearning for even one. small. relleno.
so a lot of people *always* complain about friends who tweet or post about the 'wonderful' sandwich they just had or how great that foot massage feels (*while* they're getting it), and i have never seen the appeal of reporting in from the supermarket line or the carwash.
and then here i am, in the cardiac ward of the hospital on one more saturday night, and i thinks to myself, "well, why not?"
so i'm here to tell you that the food is somewhat adequate and too salty (!)... but the people here are cool and helpful and great in pretty much every respect.
had a nap for like three hours in the ER after they told me to forget getting any morphine. like they stopped all attention when they realised i wasn't gonna croak on the spot, so i had all that time to snooze. because of that, i was keyed up when we got to the CW... thinking, "well, my doc says i should get exercise every day, and i just had that nap."
so here i am taking a stroll around the floor, like on my seventeenth lap when this charge nurse pulls me over for speeding!
yah, i was shocked too. "too fast?" says i. "how can you tell?"
"heart rate's over a hundred," says she, "so get in the slow lane or i'll run you in." (parts of this exchange might not be verbatim)
just got me a nightcap (full liter bag of Saline Light - "breakfast of former champions!") - dominic the cheerful orderly guy just brought it in, sans paper umbrella.
"cheers!" i said as i first tasted the metallic flavor hitting my taste buds.
he looked at me slanticular and smiled: "sure!"
not sure if that "signs of the times" magazine came from him, but it was an interesting angle to see the world from.
moms came earlier and brought me some enchiladas - she smuggled them in wrapped in an old new yorker, so i'm set for now: food and reading. check. (see accompanying photo, live from the scene)
breakfast will be another story. longing for tacos. wistfully remembering the best tacos in ensenada (in hollywood with capt slanty). or those ones actually *in* ensenada. or those ones in mazatlan. or those ones at hotel colonial just south of rosarito with ric. or mi tierra. yah, it's tough in glendale on a saturday night: yearning for even one. small. relleno.
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