THE ODDS (Debbie Does ALS)


11.18.2010

Not in a tree...

I had one hell of a dream last night. Here, in no particular order, are the events that occurred in my Land of Nod.

Cast of characters:
Me
Wendy
Jenny
Becky
ALS patient 1
ALS patient 2 (very pregnant)
patient 2's caregiver
patient 2's OB/GYN
team of random neurologists
random group of Becky's friends
a couple of young mothers with their small children
a  group of random over-50s, including a man I met at the bank in 1997 or 98 and Craig T. Nelson.

I was on a train, sitting near ALS patient 1. He wanted to listen to his iPod on the train platform (which, curiously, floated beside the moving train), so we both went out and sat on the metal bench outside the door to our car. Neither of us were in wheelchairs; he sat comfortably on the bench, arms outstretched and legs crossed. I was using my MacBook, typing with both hands.

Back on the train, I sat with patient 2 and her OB/GYN, who asked me the date of my last breast exam. When I said it was more than a year ago, he performed one right then and there. Patient 2 and I chatted casually until the doctor informed me there were several lumps  under my left armpit.

Patient 2 and I went out to the platform only to find it was a marshy wetland. Walking through this made patient 2 very tired. Her strapping caregiver appeared and carried her back as I followed. There was a moment of panic because we could not find the door to our car. When the door (with a large number 3) was located, everyone was relieved.

Now  seated on the train, I plugged in my laptop; the outlet was unique as it accommodated any sort of plug. Patient 2's caregiver asked if he could use the outlet, when I said yes he did a fist pump. I yelled, "Project 2600!" which drew appreciative smiles from those nearby.

At the end of the car was a group of Becky's friends. They were goofing around near an open door when one of them lost his grip. He was consumed by blue electric light; as the train moved on the blue light grew smaller. Becky was sad and told me this particular friend was special to many people.

I saw that  patient 1 was back in his seat.

My sister and I were visiting churches, looking for living saints. We decided not to go to Notre Dame because all the saints there were already dead.

After taking a shower, I gathered my clothes and was distressed because they were wet. Becky pointed out some dry benches (shaped like pieces of pie) and I arranged my clothes.

Also on the benches were many pieces of loud, gaudy jewelry intended for fashion dolls. These caught the attention of a group of little  Pakistani girls (not sure why I knew that) and their mothers, so I gave the jewelry away to them. As it happened, we were next door to the jewelry factory  and were able to see the jewelry making process: the components of each specific piece were in a tray which was placed in front of a worker (dressed a la Sailor Moon), after a piece was complete a new tray appeared.

One of the mothers was very pale. Her name was Lily. Several of the little girls were also quite pale,  due to white makeup that stopped at the neck.

A neurologist wheeled me down the aisle, asking me questions like, "can you walk?" "do you burp?" etc. He and his team advised me my responses would be judged by how long I took to answer. All the neurologists looked alike. As we made our way down the aisle, I noticed a little bag on the floor; I could not tell what was in it but I thought it was a stuffed animal.

Suddenly a woman called out that her baby was missing. Little toys scattered all over the floor. I suggested someone look in the little bag but, when they did, all they discovered was a large piece of candy shaped like a star.

I was taken to a room where Jenny was waiting for me at a table. On the table was a Toshiba scanner, a gift premium I received with a recent purchase. As Jenny and I admired  the scanner, a small crowd of people over 50 gathered behind us. Included in this small crowd were Craig T. Nelson and a man I met at the bank in the late 90s. I looked over at Craig T. Nelson, then at the man...who was smoothing my hair. When he saw me look, he began smoothing Jenny's hair, too.

This is where I woke up. Thoughts?

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2 comments:

Jen said...

not a big fan of Craig T. Nelson smoothing my hair. I think he qualifies as a weird old guy now. and i deal with enough of those at work. at least he didn't hit me with his cane, right? lol.

Anonymous said...

wow, that is hillarious, especially all the details.

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