The Small Comforts

Not a terrible view from the hospital. I’m grateful for the small comforts.
• The sunshine.
• That I’m allowed to wear my own socks and underwear instead of a gown. Open-backed gowns? Who the F thought of such a thing?
• Tripping balls on Ketamine until the pain became manageable.
• That I’m lying in the most beautiful hospital room I’ve ever seen in my life..on the 9th floor of one of the Penn Hospital buildings in University City, and have the room to myself. I am so goddamn lucky.
• For the beds! Forget Sloan Kettering— these beds are amazing. They’re super wide and like sleep number beds where you can adjust the softness, firmness, bring your head up, bring your feet up, bring your head AND your feet up, fold yourself into a pretzel, shoot yourself out of it like a cannonball, use it as a raft.
• That maybe I’m still tripping on Ketamine?
• I ordered the lasagna for lunch and it was hot and good!
• Watching The Golden Girls on my iPhone.
• For all of your comments and messages that make me feel so special, and so lifted and loved up. (Not a small comfort, a big one.)
• Also a big comfort: Evan. Who is the sweetest, cutest, funniest, most steady and stable, loving partner I could ever hope for. Just sitting next to him relaxes my breathing and strengthens my heartbeat. I could be lying on the street, poisoned, and if a doctor passed by and offered me an antidote, Evan would probably say something like: “he’ll only take it if there’s an anal option and you’re willing to administer it.” Which would make me start laughing so hard, I’d eject the poison naturally and be healed.