Tuesday, May 22, 2012


Twenty-four thousand, 46 dollars. And 32 cents. These are the charges currently posted to my insurance, and the hospital kindly informs me that it "has been our privilege to serve you."

This was in the morning mail, the last thing I checked before coming back to the Paragraph Factory (where we make them fresh daily). Frankly, I expected the bill to come closer to 30 grand, so there's that small comfort. And the CT scan: only $7,987 for a half-hour claustrophobic carnival ride in that tunnel of hell. Can you say "bargain"?

But I'm alive. Depressed as hell at this little detour in life's great adventure, but alive. Saddened at the clueless nature of some people, but alive. Pissed off at not being able to ditch this goddamned quad cane, but alive. The alternative might be quieter, but I'd miss the comfort in being sad.

It's good to be back at the desk. Master of my domain I am not. But I'm trying to be cool.

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