I had never been hospitalized before. I was in my forties, and, save for a long, sadistic episode in which they WOULDN’T let me sleep, after ten hours in a steel mill in Kansas, having hit my head on pavement and requiring five or six stitches and the creepy claustrophobia of a CAT scan and nothing to eat (which I do not consider hospitalization, but, rather, the eight-hour airport layover from HELL).
As I was saying, except for that, I had never spent a night in a hospital bed.
I had walked home from a night shift at a tax office, and as I went to sleep, I began to feel chills, and then into fever dreams, and I knew that I was sick. Continue reading