home world

I'm as tired as only a day in the hospital can make me, the weariness that's not so much the will to sleep, as the will to not think of feel anymore.

Hospital, like airports, or school, looks the same, no matter where in the world you are. I'm thinking about that when I'm walking toward the elevator, about how maybe if I just open a door or turn into a room, I'll find some secret passage that connect me to a different hospital, in Israel maybe. Then I think that maybe that already happened and I just didn't feel it because all the hospitals looks the same. They have that same feel of pleasant boredom, of cream color wall and those awful reproduction of paintings and prints with flower in them and the same light. And they have the same time zone, all of them, in which minutes feels like hours and half hours feels like days, and going out, after spending just a few hours in there, I feel like I grew old by at least a 100 years.

His mom had some heart thing, she's fine, they had dinner with us on Sunday, and then dessert and then they went home and in the hours after dinner she felt a pressure in her chest and in the morning, she went to the Doctor who send her to a Cardiologist who send her to the hospital where she had an Angiogram and and Angioplasty.

I went through the same thing with my mother, about a year and a half ago, just before moving to New York, being in the hospital, I remembered everything, what comes before what, and what will the DR. say and when not too move and everything. I was looking through the window in the waiting room, expecting to see the mountains of Jerusalem like they look from Haddasa hospital, and not Manhattan. I remembered different small things from when my mother was in the hospital, then from when my sister and my grandmother, it feels as if every hospital visit I do, it harder to carry because it carries in it all the other hospital memories folded in it, in hospital time, like layers of films laying one on top of the other.

The Dr. is talking about changing life habits and sports and eating differently and medication and I've heard all this before, and it makes me scared about how I'm eating and how I'm not doing any sports. And it also makes me think that there's nothing wrong with her, really, that she's having the symptoms of age, that at some point, everyone i know would be facing the same visit to the hospital with some heart problem. I'm thinking about my mother and how I felt like I was breaking her heart by leaving. I'm thinking that I'll be old one day and die. I'm making impossible deals in my mind, agreeing to live only till the age of 60 if all this will be spared of me. If only not to have to deal with getting old. I rather die, then deal with the idea of my own mortality.


Later at home, I'm cutting papers for prints and stop in the middle, I surf the net, I check facebook for no good reason, I finish a painting I started the other day, not because I want to, but because I can't bare to start something new, and I want this day to end with at least one thing finished. I draw flowers and paint them yellow until all the page is filled and the painting is done.

I think about this blog and how, a while ago, I would come back from a day like this and just want to write about it and how now, I just want to turn on an audio book. I don't want to listen or express my thoughts and feeling. I'm trying to figure out why and come to a vague conclusion that it has to do with space. I miss myself, the way that I was before, the way that I was when I was writing more. I miss the fearlessness of not being afraid to loss everything because I feel I have nothing. I miss drinking instead of eating, I miss being thinner.

But I don't, not really, I'm just scared of getting old I guess.