Back To: The Tyranny of Materiality
April 14, 1994 . . . Immediately following Open Heart Surgery . . . [I had been a quadriplegic for ten years] . . . I was born with a hole in my heart: ASD, Atrial Septal Defect, although we didn't find it until a year before the surgery . . . betadine to my neck . . . I pre-planned this photo asking Pam to bring her camera to the hospital though no one remembered that I wanted a photo except me and I couldn't speak since I was intubated: I tried spelling C-A-M-E-R-A with my arm and a nurse taped a pen to my hand so I could communicate . . . I wonder what I could see at the time . . . we take our bodies for granted but how can we acknowledge every cell in our bodies every second of the day? We can't . . . so many people approach me with firm conviction that as a quadriplegic I take nothing for granted after all that I've been through: bullshit . . . life's too complex . . . I pay attention to everything going on inside / outside of me but take 99% for granted . . . what an all consuming approach to living that would be!
"'tis in ourselves that we are / thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the / which our wills are gardeners; so that if we will plant / nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up [tine], / supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with / many, either to have it sterile with idleness or manur'd / with industry -- why, the power and corrigible / authority of this lies in our wills."
William Shakespeare: "Othello", Act I, Scene iii.
Tubes and stuff . . . 4/14/94
4/14/94: Brandee waits for the surgery to end with my brother Gordon . . . she spent (I think) only a day or two with him, then she spent the next six weeks with me in Albany Medical Center . . .
4/15/94: The next day . . .
4/15/94: Aren't my bodily fluids pretty colors?
4/17/94 . . . three days post surgery . . . have to keep the lungs free of crap so you inhale into the incentive spirometer to make the ball rise . . .
My Dad patiently hangs out with me . . .