I don’t remember how I got to intensive care. I wish I had. Getting there sounded like fun. Claire told me later she had thought I had been awake, more or less, and that they had transported me in what could only be described as a golf cart. (Much later, I rode it to… well, …
In the green-gray gauzy hour just after dawn, the hospital is as quiet as it will ever be. And I’m always awake, watching the breath of this old building puff the curtains up silently away from the sill so I can see the palm fronds flicker in the breeze. The mosquitos dance just outside the …
Having clambered out of the ambulance, Claire and I entered the hospital and made our way down a dark corridor not knowing where we were going. We arrived in another corridor, full of people, people who were dressed in very bright clothing, or so my drugged-up eyeballs showed me. A super-cute boy leaned up against …
I read at Second Story’s last event which theme was The End of the Road. I divided the piece into several parts and separated them with a punto. I also taped up one of my X-Rays on the podium. This is the first section. I’ll be posting them all in succession, at Claire’s request. “If …
After consulting with Rivadavia’s radiation doctors — and getting yet another doctor’s finger wiggling up my ass — the whole department encouraged me to forego treatment in the public hospital and instead seek treatment in a private clinic. The head of the department said that the machines in the public hospital were obsolete and would …
I’ve been impressed before with the relative lack of bureaucracy involved in obtaining free health care in Buenos Aires. Basically, show up, show your documents — a U.S. passport is as valid as an Argentine DNI — tell them what’s wrong, fill out a few forms and get treated. I’ve always gotten the feeling that …
On November 30 I entered Rivadavia public hospital in Buenos Aires with severe peretonitis caused by a 5 cm tumor blocking my lower intestine. Emergency surgery removed half the tumor and repaired the perforation of my colon. (Well, actually, they cut off the dead part of my colon and stitched up the two loose ends.) …
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