Elvis has left the hospital. After a few days of migraines and nausea, which the doctors could never understand, it had been a dabba-do time. When I went in, my mobility was maybe a 5, it then plummeted to a 2. The operation, despite some post-op weirdness, was a success. There is now a very expensive pump in my abdomen.
I am quite fortunate to now be at what is likely the premier rehabilitative facility in the country. Presently, I am in an in-patient program and will probably be here at least a week. I am feeling better already. That 2 is now a solid 3. There’s talk of 7. As the Arabs say, “Inshallah”—God willing.
During my final days in the hospital, my teenage siblings (half-sister and step-brother; the “jokers”) popped in for a visit. They were quick to make fun of me and raid my Pringles. On the marker board it said “I Prefer: Gregory.” I asked said jokers to change it to G$. My request was met with more ridicule
