Monday, April 16, 2007

Hospitals Suck

It is said of us--by humans, I might add--that we are short on long-term memory, interested only in such things as walks, treats, and such stratagems as will give our people status among their friends. As in, What a well-mannered dog. Or, worse, I wish my dog could do that trick!

Even though it was three and a quarter years ago, I remember when Boss was in a hospital, away from his job, away from me.

Now it is my turn and although the situation is reversed, I am away from my job and from Boss. There was something said about an IV drip to ease the pain and get me out of shock, which in a way reminds me of the story Boss told me on the occasion when an artist named Zoe Strauss didn't get a Guggenheim grant she'd applied for. Well told. In fact, fuck shock, hospitals, and IV drips. Fuck not being able to work, or have any sense of getting things done.

Some dogs apparently like this kind of life, the lay-about life. There was a dog at Peet's the other day who seemed to have a handle on things. Called itself a Therapy Dog. Goes around to hospitals and rehab centers, inspiring people to get off their sorry ass and out into the weather, where there are things to be sniffed, plans to be made.

I don't mind the occasional wait for Boss in his car, which he also refers to as my office. Mostly I go to class and faculty meetings with him and we work the writers together, so the occasional wait isn't too bad.

Waiting in a hospital, on the other hand,is simply against Nature. Dogs were not meant to wait in hospitals. Dogs are meant to get on with it, to get the job articulated, to get the job done.

Of all the places in the world to be, a hospital on the lower end of Milpas, even if it is across the street from The Habit, which does a pretty good burger, is no place for a dog. No place at all.

They have got me fucking drowsy, which may be from the meds, or it may be the result of this being one boring place. When I get a nap, I'm going to look for a way out of this. I think the term is AMA, against medical advice. Being a good patient is not in my job description. I am a dog. That is my job description.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Sally, I went back to the scene of the crime, where the road and that car conspired to attack you, trying to ascertain what happened. No signs. I was saying, just before you leapt out of the car, that you are brilliant, and you are. But then you already knew that, didn't you? We are lucky, those few of us you let in.

R.L. Bourges said...

sally, I'm supposed to go to bed and sleep but I've been reading your blog instead. Almost jumped in a number of times but this here is more than I can take.
You see, I am a dog; well a human but dog sign human. I think that means a dog peed on my leg and baptized me when I was little. An old Chinese custom.
Anyway. What you say about hospitals not being fit for dogs? and dogs being meant to get on with it and get the job done? I'm with you, girl. Haven't read the rest of your blog yet so I don't know how long this hospital kept you out of business. They're a disgrace is what they are. Even the piss don't smell right in hospitals.
Speaking of which I read you were out in March and got a scent of that mountain lion, huh? she's a rassler all right. Thing with those lions is you never know when they're going to get twitchy on you. So keep your nose on the trail, Sally.
And keep an ear out for the dragons, cuz you never know - when they decide to land, they make one hell of a mess. They have high, metal-screechy voices out in California? Ones over here do.