My Will to Power

I chose the title because I think these last two posts have been products of pure and unadulterated will to power. Right now I am self-overcoming. I spent last night in the hospital after having "work done" on my nose. I use parenthesis because I am really not sure what happened. At this point communication between me and the small army of doctors I have dealt with is tenuous at best. I only remember being told something about "a lot of force" so "we may not be able to simply use local anesthetics." I am operating on faith, I guess that's what happens when its free. "This doesn't cost me anything? Ok, I don't really care what you do then, go to town."

I can clearly remember the near excruciating pain that the period after the procedure engendered. I had two things stuffed into my sinuses that simultaneously gave me intense nose, eye and head pain. This was pain that I could see, taste, smell, and hear coming even before I felt it. I think that it tricked my brain. "No, this cannot possibly be right...yep, this is the big one!" No amount of whatever pills they were giving me did anything to help. Actually, I may have passed out from the pain had they not given me the pain medication, which lowered the pain to a level where it could be consciously experienced. I have toyed with the idea that these things were actually stuffed so far up my nose that they were touching the part of my brain that delivers pain. It made me think of Catch 22 where the character is talking about pain and asks something like why can't we just have a red light on our forehead to tell us something is wrong. I would have loved a red light.

This brings me to one criticism of Danish healthcare, which so far I take over America's any day of the week despite the inefficiency and lack of communication. Just like the supermarkets here there is no choice. Of the pain medication I have been subjected to since my injury there seems to be nothing between morphine and children's tylenol. I don't like morphine because the way it makes me feel is pleasant, but much more frightening than pain. Pain is earthly, its real...its a steady companion really. There has to be something down the middle though...I cannot think of anytime in the US that I have been given 4 of whatever pain medication the doctor was using and felt no different. Actually watching The Thin Red Line did more to ease my pain than the medication.

I realize that I am speaking to some women here who either have born, or may someday bear children, you are probably thinking "he doesn't know pain." Maybe I don't, but I do know humanity and a bit of the law and what I just had happen to me is a crime against humanity. In fact, I endear anyone considering to have a child to think about whether or not they want to bring someone into a world where broken noses must be fixed. This is not a world fit for peace-loving human beings.

Now, after a week spent mostly in a hospital I have a new perspective on my life here in the apartment. First of all, I do not have a television here and I have not watched television in almost two months. In almost a week in a hospital bed with absolutely nothing to do I found the television almost intolerable. It just irritated me most of the time. There was a good documentary one day on Iraq in Arabic with English subtitles and The Thin Red Line. They were worth watching. Also, if the Danish language sounded even 10% like the way it was written then I think the television could be a learning tool cause I expanded my vocabulary while watching the subtitles on the movie. Danish, of course, does not sound anything like the way it is written though so I can still not understand or speak a lick of it although I can read a little more.

The other thing I am quite tired of is sharing a room with 150 year old men. These men's bodies sound like an untrained, out of tune, and poorly conducted brass section in and orchestra. Most of the time I have been alone though. It is mind-numbing to sit in a white hospital bed, in my white hospital shirt, and the white hospital underwear that are supposed to pass as shorts looking back and forth from the white hospital walls and ceiling to the white/grey Danish sky.

Last night there was hardly anybody in the ward though so the nurse was in my room a lot and she had been to California once and wanted me to tell her all about San Diego. Well! We all know how much I love to talk about my beloved San Diego, and my mind was taken back as I answered questions and painted the most vivid picture with words that I could muster up on my pain-drug and pain deluded mind. It was as if Monet had painted San Diego though my friends, it was beautiful if I must say so myself! This brings me to one perk about the hospital stay for this humble American moocher of free Danish healthcare...the only nurses that speak English well enough to deal with me are the pretty ones around my age. Hey, I have had a head trauma and things inserted in my face...I am trying to make the best of this!

I have double-vision from this asinine thing that I have to wear on my nose for a week so I am going to wind this down before I get a headache. Oh yeah, I had a bizarre experience today. While sleeping in my apartment I was listening to Elliot Smith, but I dreamed I was listening to somebody else. When I woke up I thought the other band (I cannot remember who) was covering Elliot Smith and thought to myself, "what a bizarre version of this Elliot Smith song." It was, of course, the original recording and I cannot for the life of me figure out why it sounded "bizarre" to me today. This is only interesting if anyone remembers when this happened to me in high school with "Castles Made of Sand" by Hendrix. I scooted over to Jared's as fast as I could in the morning to wake him and Paige and show them how the version of "Castles Made of Sand" on my CD had changed mysteriously overnight! Jared has never lived that down, and secretly, though I have never said it before now, I still think my fantasy-land version sounded better and the original never compares.