Sprung!



Harvey, the Angel of Death

                                                                                   I don't think
 I can properly describe my feelings during the ride back to Brooklyn from Silver Lake. We were in Chayie's Odyssey. It was the first time I was in a vehicle that didn't have a siren in a very long time. Once again, I started feeling like a human being. Remember those old posts where I described doubting whether I would ever leave the hospital? Doubting whether I would ever return to some semblance of a "normal" life (whatever that means)? This car ride represented an answer. Here I was, crossing over the Verrazano Bridge as a passenger in my sister's minivan, just like thousands of other people heading for the Belt Parkway. People...not patients. In my mind, my long journey back to normalcy was over. I had come face-to-face with the Angel of Death and stared him down and walked away stronger for the experience. Or so I thought. When we got to the Fisch residence there was a "welcome home" sign on the door. Then inside there were two balloon bouquets: one from the Fisches and one from Malkie, wife #3. Think I should propose to her again? I've done it many times since our divorce, and she keeps saying no. Go figure! She's definitely my favorite ex. I have to keep reminding myself that for the 177 days that we were married, we were both pretty miserable. But the birds, Oscar and Tootala, were ecstatic. I guess that doesn't count enough. So there was definite evidence that people actually missed me and worried about me and wanted me around. Of course the evidence could also be interpreted as a sign that everyone was just sick and tired of shlepping to Washington Heights or Staten Island. I preferred the former possibility rather than the latter. I was touched. I was moved. I was home.