I was probably already in the ICU unit but in my head it was as if before surgery someone had asked me some questions and I had answered that I spoke French and their response had been that they had always wanted to learn French and so a French brain was great for them. My next thought was that they were going to squeeze that out of me to get that useful skill. Plus, they seemed intrigued by “the Pataphysics knowledge” stored in there too.
In the intensive care unit for the almost three weeks I was there, most of the time I felt I was nobody: everybody that came to me seemed to shove more tubes into me… until one day another tube was shoved down my throat but then I found myself, to my surprise, saying “no!” I had barely spoken before and this major act of resistance became suddenly the beginning of my escaping the timelessness of the ICU.
The only time when I remember feeling a strong sense of myself was one time when I felt humiliated by trying to defecate in an almost open fashion while nurses were circling around me.
I remember someone dying across the way. People were surrounding the bed, then a curtain was drawn. Everybody was very quiet. There was that kind of quietness…
I remember someone having been injured in Iraq. More, as soon as I can….