23 Aug 2013: Seht! Wohin? Auf unsre Schuld.

30 minute workout first thing (4:30 AM: should nap after breakfast.) 150 lowrise steps, walking, 50 dance moves at apogee of walk, 250 supine weight moves. No pain prior but now experiencing about 6/10, was given painkiller only after the workout.

PAIN has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.

It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.

– Emily Dickinson

The aptly named painkiller arrives in the control room of the brain with its tools and behind the main operators’ console starts pulling out circuit boards that “feel” pain while joking with the operators about the absence of my sex life. The painkiller wears a tight-fitting uniform made of some shiny fabric with a logo of a lightning bolt through the letter P. Ha ha. Watch it, guys.

Inches from me, a Chinese wife consoles her dying husband in Cantonese.


“Seht! Wohin? Auf unsre Schuld.” In the first chorale of the St Matthew passion, it is as if the Knaben-Chor (children’s chorus) creeps giggling underneath the stage, shushing each other as the grown-ups sing “Seht! Wohin? Auf unsre Schuld”, practically shouting “Seht! Wohin? Auf unsre Schuld.” (see, where!? Behold our guilt!) and as if to comfort us, the ghosts of happy children creep giggling under the stage, shushing each other, and then dance and sing.

Don’t get me wrong. A book about the Holocaust is titled “why did the heavens not turn black”. But

When my brother said
Your son is dead

The sun kept shining in the forest of Lamma where I live.

But God said out of the whirlwind, give me a break, ED. Come on, if the day had turned gloomy you would have moaned about that!


2 Responses to “23 Aug 2013: Seht! Wohin? Auf unsre Schuld.”

  1. spinoza1111 Says:

    I shall leave the material on the St Matthew passion somewhat duplicated between the 22 and 23rd.

  2. spinoza1111 Says:

    Did a second workout today: 20 minutes physio: 700 strokes on the rackety-row including handweights in lieu of the rowing handles which I busted two months ago.

    This is the first session I’ve managed this week owing to the difficulty with pain control. I’ve gone back down to “Level 1 intensity” which is managed in analog-digital style by placing a washer (fat screw) through one of a series of retaining holes.

    But I’ve also learned to push through to the limit of the rackety-rower’s motion for greater intensity, doing so at the present time every five strokes of each five in a “century” (100 strokes).

    Back before cancer I worked out at higher intensity and was “hotter” even at sixty, fat lot of good that has ever done anyone. But ever since the summer of 2012, I’ve accomplished my dream: a daily workout, first thing *tous les jours* and two workout days. Perhaps I am scared to death, altho there’s no cure in working out, just a higher quality of life overall.

    I come back to the ward to find that the guy with the weird weak birdlike cough is really going at it. It’s like being in Catholic school back in the 1950s, sitting behind the kid with ringworm. I put Parsival on but it hardly cuts the weird noise, *Die Klagende Lied*, the song of lamentation.

    We find the Other’s coughing annoying perhaps out of visceral fears of infection and because we want to deny his suffering lest we experience it to.

    Despite his pain, the nurses and aides go ’round their duties. Right, take his blood pressure…that should help. Can’t you give him codeine? Shut him up? Ease his pain? “Cheracol” was a tasty cough medicine containing codeine. Mom used to give it to us in the Fifties. Just caught up with information about it. It’s not much recommended any more.

    Sending healing rays across the ward while trying not to look annoyed.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: