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worked at the corners of his mouth. He sauntered away from the side of the bed, took out his pipe and went through the whole maddening ritual. A cloud of billowy white encased his gnomelike face before he started in on me again. |
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"Then you came to and crawled out," he repeated, as though he had to remind me where I was in the stream of events. |
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Time out. Let me draw you a somewhat clearer picture of my predicament. I am still battered, still bruised and still beaten. My face is a swollen montage of cuts, abrasions and tiny little sores where the good staff of the hospital have deemed fit to dig razorlike slivers of flint from my epidermis. There is an IV in my right arm, and my left arm, starting at the shoulder, is encased in miles of gauze and adhesive because of damage inflicted during my impromptu fireworks display. For four days I've had nothing but water and a paste the staff of this miserable hospital assures me is oatmeal. I am, to coin a phrase, not a happy person. |
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Now that you have that image securely tucked away, picture a bucolic old geezer with a crusty, somewhat impish manner, an individual devoid of the human response known as sympathy, browbeating a helpless patientand you have some idea why I m a trifle testy. |
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