A Kind of Timelessness

A kind of timelessness reigns within the four walls of a hospital room. There’s no day, no night. No time. Weather doesn’t exist. The temperature never varies. If you didn’t have a watch or a computer, it’d be kinda hard to tell when it was.

(I’m sure that if you left me here long enough, I’d wonder what it was.)

Without a nurse coming in every couple of hours to poke, prod or palpitate something, the passage of time and the rhythm of life becomes confusing. At least, that’s what it feels like in the morning, just before you’ve had breakfast and started thinking up how and when you’re going to get to a WIFI point.

I still think that it’s kind of silly for me to be here, but I know that there’s a reason for everything. On the whole, I’ve got nothing to complain about.

Having said that, I think that there is at least some expectation that this experience is supposed to be difficult. Maybe I’ll figure out something later on today. Real angst requires thought and planning.

Of course being the only foreigner in a hospital this size is both liberating and intimidating. No one quite knows what to expect from you, so you can be anything that you like. But, you also feel a need to be on your best behavior because they will remember you long after you’ve forgotten about them.


On the other hand, I’m a walking contradiction, so I suspect that I’ll take advantage of the opportunity to confound expectations and do whatever I want.

I tend to do that kind of thing anyway.


Then, of course, there’s that bit of excitement every once in a while when something goes wrong.

Interesting, but I could do without it.

I’m looking forward to getting back to our normal programming.