Hope You're Feeling Better, Chesty O'Massman
This is my brother-in-law. Two weeks ago, doctors cut him open and collapsed his left lung in order to remove an unidentifiable mass behind his heart. They removed the mass, stitched him back up, and gave him painful breathing exercises to re-inflate the lung. He is home now sans mystery mass (which contained no cancer cells — thank you Jesus) trying to heal up.
For a distraction from the pain (and I'm told lung-inflating and chest-surgery healing is crazy painful), he bought a copy of The Grapes of Wrath. If I were trying to keep my mind off excruciating pain, I would have chosen something fluffy and happy and light. But not this mountain man. He chose bleak dust bowls, Depression migration, and starvation to keep his mind occupied. This is a tough cookie. This is a guy who shoots limbs out of trees as a part of his job. This is a guy who pulls his own EKG stickers off his hairy chest.
Feel better soon, Captain RibcageRage. We're thinking about you.
4 Comments:
You think they could have given the guy a softer, indoor hospital bed. At least they gave the poor fellow some Oakleys. I've found that Oakleys take my mind off the pain.
I don't understand his downer of a book choice, either, but he seemed to like it. He says that maybe his book selection reflected his own painful journey. Now he has moved on to more uplifting material, selected writings from John Muir. This definitely reflects his great progress. (He's about to blow the top off of his breathing exercise gadget!)--thank you Jesus. Now if only he could use his chainsaw...
Grapes of Wrath is, to borrow a phrase, one of my super-favey-faves.
If I tried to read something fluffy post-op, I wuld probably be all "screw you, Hermione- you don't KNOW suffering..." and whatnot.
Chesty O'Massman might be my new hero, if I ever get health insurance ima gonna order up some surgery quick, just so I can request one of those hardcore 100% rock & dirt hospital beds.
Glad he's feeling better. They make some kids read that book in high school which compounds the misery. Worst part about it? No grapes.
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