Orpheo Visiting my dying father I got lost in the vast hospital complex and found myself in a basement—dimly lit, low ceiling, damp, with a stale sour odor featuring notes of urine and feces. As my eyes accustomed to the dim light I saw that I was surrounded by old people in cots or wheelchairs. Several lay on the cement floor in awkward positions, as if they had fallen out of their cot or chair and couldn’t get up. I thought of helping them but didn’t know where to start. Unsure which direction was the exit I narrowly avoided crashing into an empty wheelchair. It wasn’t empty; a very old woman was in it. I looked down at her. She was sitting straight but with her white head bowed and a tattered beige blanket covering her legs and feet. Her hands were crossed on her lap and she was twiddling her shrunken veiny thumbs slowly, silently. The entire basement was silent—not a cough, yawn, audible breath, shriek . . . I gazed again at the old woman in her wheelchair. Her eyes were closed. I placed my hand on her head gently, bent down and whispered to her. She did not respond. Head bowed, she continued to twirl her thumbs. I found the exit and stood by an elevator next to a hospital orderly stroking his smartphone. I said: What are those old people doing in that damp, dark basement without any hospital staff? He looked up at me blankly. I said: Some have fallen out of their chairs or cots. They need attention. The elevator stopped, he stepped in without responding, continuing to stroke his smartphone. I followed him into the elevator. I visited my shrunken father, drugged and tubed. I placed my hand on his head. He didn’t recognize me. I thought of returning to the basement of discarded old people, but couldn’t locate it. Outside it was raining. It wasnt rain but sleet. I walked to the Penn Station terminal to catch the train back. I stopped to pee at the men’s toilet on the lower level of the terminal. There had to be 20 urinals side-by-side against the tile wall and each was occupied. Each male at each urinal was masturbating while peering at the masturbating male to his left. I walked outside, bought a Snickers bar from a confection machine, then sat on a bench facing the toilet chewing the Snickers slowly. In three or four minutes one of the males at the urinals emerged with a wide grin on his face. He was talking on his cell. I waited a few more minutes then managed to pee. My train was thirty-seven minutes late. I boarded it and headed north.
Posted on: Mon, 03 Nov 2014 19:13:06 +0000
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