I have been for days at the Shirley Ryan Ability Lab in Chicago. They swapped out the high-octane stuff in my pump for some low-octane. My pump is set at 96 (not 75) micrograms a day, which is the lowest setting for the high-octane stuff. However, that leaves the drug in the catheter.
Left on its own, the line will clear in ten days. [wrong answer buzzer] So, there’s a procedure for sucking out the catheter—whereupon they can dial down the pump even further. I will therefore be going back to Northwestern for the procedure.
Other than that, much physical therapy. And teaching classes online from my bed—what I call the “Hospital Lectures.”
The view from my room is tough to beat. Just beautiful. The sunrises (I keep strange hours) are breathtaking. And the clouds mixed with the lake call to mind the paintings of John Constable, maybe Turner. I love Constable (and Turner) and have two framed prints of his in my bedroom/library. And a framed Turner.
But in the building to the right of my view, there is an eery silhouette of what looks to be a man in one of the windows. It never moves. I suspect it’s a sculpture. God, I hope it’s a sculpture.
I also included a Constable for your enjoyment: “Weymouth Bay, 1816,”
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