The Subway Rambler Presents: Medical Mysteries

My week?  My week was fairly ordinary, if you discount the 48-hour dual birthday party* that ate up the entire weekend.  The week of someone I love very much, on the other hand, was profoundly... I'm going to go with the word 'hardcore,' since 'Extreme' makes it sound more like it was on purpose, and likely sponsored by Mountain Dew, or Doritos.  Or Mountain Dew flavored Doritos, which actually do exist, in the face of all logic or good taste.

Anyway, pretty much almost everybody who reads this blog already knows that Karl - also in the face of all logic and good taste - was hit by a stroke Tuesday around noon.  The one thing he did display was good timing, as it happened right in the middle of a workday, while he was talking to a customer at the Apple Store in Stamford.  Which is, I have to say, about the best possible scenario you can find yourself in when the medical emergency demon comes gunning for you, short of actually already being at the hospital.  I plan to spend a lot more of my time hanging out at malls, being the hypochondriac that I am, just as a precaution.

 After a brief life-saving dalliance in Stamford, Karl was brought to Columbia-Presbyterian.  There, apparently to suffer not just the drawn-out shock of what had happened, but also everyone's attempted jokes about why it happened. (My own entry: there are easier ways to avoid having me yell at you).

As I mentioned to Karl when I visited on Wednesday night, this was my fourth official trip to this hospital. The first was my birth (which also included my circumcision, so it probably wasn't all fun and games); the second was to visit my high-school friend during his somewhat lengthy psoriasis treatments; the third was when my step-sister was being treated for melanoma, and now Karl with a decades-early stroke.  At this rate, I'm not looking forward to my next visit, you know?

I'll leave the bulk of the story for Karl to fill you in on when he returns to blogging - apparently, typing and all sorts of things like that will be therapeutic.  And, for once, so will masturbation.

Karl has found himself in the unlucky position over the last few years of being my primary artistic collaborator - so I'll confess to some selfishness when I wish him a speedy recovery.  But he has the benefit of an army of friends and loved ones wishing the same for far more altruistic reasons, so hopefully he'll forgive me my own lapse in logic and good taste.

D.

*Not one, but TWO parties for Jim's 40th.  Long story.