Travel Portrait 22
On Being Patient #3: Reversion Triggers
May 13, 2009 [listen]
Reversion triggers acumen, capacitates acuity and the beyond.
Art appreciation begins with how one interprets the work,
not in the consistency of the interpretation as story, as
testimony to a series of events as facts, but as a matter
of fact as momental truth is experienced (time-based) under
duress--documentation ongoing. The beyond begets a living
fraught with acts of conciliation caused by the desire to
validate luxury in sickness and in health--in memorium as
I derived this conclusion after leaving the exhibition
at the Art Museum on my way to the three o'clock appointment
for a catscan. Entertaining thoughts and rendering those
thoughts based on the actuality of my surroundings, mesmerized
my attitude for the rest of the day.
The catscan process/procedure elapsed in less than thirty-seven
minutes. I was handed a compact disc and instructed to deliver
the disc to my physician who needed to visually obtain the
"lay of my cranial land" in preparation for the
endoscopic transsphrenoidal surgery.
I was greeted by the physician's nurse practitioner and
assertive apprentice whose aggressive manner overwhelmed
by passive expectations for the delicate surgical objective
that was to commence within a couple weeks. "The shock
of the situation," I explained to the nurse practitioner
after the apprentice had left the examination room to fetch
In walks the physician with the apprentice who he reintroduces
her as such. The physician states that he has reviewed the
catscan. He then explains his role in the procedure and
the potential complications if there is an occurrence. The
physician then wanted to take a look, examine the point
of entry: my sinus; nasal passage; aka my nose. He asked
the nurse practitioner to spray a local anesthesia into
my nose so that he could place a stiff metallic probe (with
a flashlight attached to the tip) into my sinus that was
fraught with follicles.
I did not think to clip my nose hairs prior to the examination.
I wish I had because the nasal spray disoriented me so much
so that I burst back into the examination room to the reception
island just minutes after leaving to follow up with the
nurse practitioner as to why I was having such a mystical
experience. My concern currently was not a matter of competence,
but of trust.
While I sat in the open-air hazily viewing figures stream
through the foyer below, I recalled the situation I had
encountered during my petrosil sinus sampling. A catheter
was passed up each vein. The entranceway was located in
the strenuously strapped groin area, a hyperbolically hairy
location that required a serious shave prior to accessing
In walks the surgical assistant with razor in hand. I am
greeted with a congenial "Hello." Then
I am presented with boys-will-be-boys banter from
this "role reversion." A venomous girly-girl,
she informed me of the type of shave I was about to receive:
bikini. Not to be intimidated, I requested that I be shaved
as clean as the world's ugliest dog. Infuriated, she began
seemingly hacking away at the underbrush with a machete
without shaving cream to remove my hairs, which at this
point in time began to straighten and stand on-edge, concealing
my flaccid erection.
The terrain had been cleared without stubble or "incident;"
however what remained was a soul patch. I made a note to
myself to trim my nose hairs just prior to the surgery because
I did not know how those follicles would be plucked.
The haze was beginning to burn off. I decided to take a
walk outside in search of some sobriety. I found myself
meandering along the periphery of the hospital's campus.
I noticed a courtyard. Off in the distance I saw some cafe
umbrellas, which visually seemed to be a pleasant area where
I could reflect some more while becoming more clear-headed.
Also, I was lured in by chirping tweets. I did not catch
sight of any trees, nor any fluttering floaters in the air.
There were no birds on the ledges of the buildings either.
I thought cynically, "What modern trickery is this?
What false hope is fabricating my consciousness?"
I peered inside the cafe glass-wall and saw a few individuals
sitting, sipping introspectively, huddled with their drink
as if down on their luck and stranded in a ghost town.
Upon entering the cafe, the barista stated, "We're
closing, sir. What'll you have?"
"Give me a tall one."
"To go," he strongly recommended.
"Yup. Guess so."
I tossed a couple of paper ducats on the counter, grabbed
the drink, and added some half-and-half before leaving through
the swinging door that bumped my sipping-hand, causing me
to stumble a bit.
"Better drink-up," advised a voice. "They're
I saw a shadow of a man, of an assemblage in soiree with
another compatriate--huddled. They both smiled at me and
"So, I see."
I sat down over there, feeling odd, evenly serene,
The sip taken steamed my alertness. A gag reflex, and then,
statuesque, a few bronze birds perched by a bench synching
with the chiming chirps. As my vision became more scrupulous,
I saw more bronzies ensconced throughout the courtyard.
My scope began to creep as this yielding brainer
began to quirk the courtyard.
"They're here! They're here," shouted the compatriot
standing sternly, pointing upward towards the sky.
I heard their flutter, a flock of 'copters descended,
frightening the bronzies from their postmodern perch.
I, having a day replete, gulped my coffee and ducked-out.
A week later, I had a review of procedures and an overview
of processes. I had the opportunity to ask any last minute
questions and was provided with short answers. Reiterated
were the potential outcomes that may burden my quality of
life decision. I was reminded to follow the pre-procedure
instructions as outlined--and to leave all personal valuables
at home, which made me wonder, what should I do with my
I remain(ed) optimistic with the thought that there is
a light at the end of the tunnel. Indeed, but to see the
luminance, must be all other lights out!!!