Thursday, February 9, 2012


I well understand the prohibitions on cell phones in bed. But when you use it as your alarm clock, you need to keep it close, right? And, as it turns, there is the temptation to look at it when you wake up for water.

So, I admit, I am addled today. My friend Pam is still in the hospital, and Kansas Janet is out of town this week, I do not have a clear idea of what is going on with Pam. I got this text message from Pam at midnight:

"Surgery is scheduled for Monday. Thanks for keeping friends informed."

I woke up a bit later and asked, "What surgery?"

Two hours later Pam answered:

Finger/hand. Depends on degree of infection, which came back with a vengeance. Did you say you were listening to Sticky Fingers? Because that's the last thing I listened to before trip to hospital."

And all night I kept waking up, thinking what it would be to lose your right hand. Not just for all the things you do with it, but, for some reason, the idea that you couldn't touch and feel. Cannot touch. Cannot feel. I could not get this out of my mind and woke several times after restless sleep.

And hence the addledness. Not just tired. But so weighted down with the sadness of this loss that it is all I can do to stay upright and awake.

No touch. No wringing of hands. Clasping of hands. Clapping of hands. No "here's the church, here's the steeple..."

Later that night.

I haven't heard from Pam again. I managed to get in touch with her son, who is in Korea, but trying to keeps tabs on his mom. He says things are somewhat better and that the surgery on Monday is to clean out the infection, that she might lose the finger, but even that is not clear.

This all threw me for a pretty big emotional loop, though. Or maybe it was hitting on some other issues in therapy today.

Things are pretty good, except that I feel emotionally run-over. I'll try to sleep through the night and ignore the cell phone, even if it pings.

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