I am here. In the hospital. It's probably day 35. I'm working with day 3. Things move slower when they throw a trach in you.

I know it's Chanukah. People are celebrating Christmas.
Some lady came around with a Santa hat. That was the holiday. Nothing for Chanukah. When you're sick and you can't talk, you're Christian.
The chaplain came around. That was nice. He gave me a blessing and an ornament. He just hung the ornament on me. He figured, "The guy can't move. That's good enough." Then he started caroling.
I think it has to do with Engelman. They think it's Engelhardt and they start giving me sacraments. Right now, I'm worried whenever they bathe me. I don't know if they're trying to clean me or convert me. If I had more of a name like Goldberg, Irving Goldberg, people would know.
Maybe if my family was around and put up something in my room, other than a card from my boss, who is Christian, they might know I'm Jewish.

No Chanukah gifts. I got a Chanukah card that said "Get Well Soon." When you're in the hospital, all cards are the same.
It was a "Get Well Soon" card. The card didn't say, "We hope to see you at home soon." I don't think anybody wants to see me at home. You don't usually see the cripple at shul. They don't like seeing wheelchairs at synagogue. People see a guy in a wheelchair, with a trach and an oxygen tank, and they start to think Gd doesn't answer prayers.

Last days, people have stopped coming. They figure, they don’t want to me to
expect it. I might complain. I can’t talk!!!
They must be mad I missed the softball game. They were depending on me. Your team has got to be real bad to be hoping the guy in the wheelchair loaded on morphine can take over the game. Maybe they were hoping I would get walked. Or pushed.

Family stopped by for a minute. That was nice. They popped in to tell me they were going to a Chanukah party. They thought I would appreciate knowing they are not going to be with me.
There is this concept that you can't be happy in hospital. Then what do you expect from me. Stuck to a bed. Staring at a screen that has squiggly lines all over it, and numbers that nurses don't seem to like.
My whole family is convinced you can't celebrate in the hospital. The hospital is not the place for holidays. And it's not a place to visit your dad.
Forget about a party. They didn't even acknowledge the holiday in my room. Do I not deserve the right to get a Chanukiah. I would like the holiday candelabrum. I guess they think it’s dangerous to light when you have an oxygen machine. The priest is at least trying. He keeps asking the nurses when he'll be able to put a cracker in my mouth.

Where the hell is my family? I don't care it's a holiday. It's not like they have ever enjoyed the community parties. They complain about it all the time.
I guess it has something to do with ICU. Maybe the ICU is a downer. We'll see what happens when I'm out of here.
Wait. There's a waiting room here. My parents are loving the hospital. The waiting room is a family reunion. Everybody loves it. Friends pop over to those things. Nothing is more enjoyable for a family than surgery. Everybody gets together.
They should be celebrating a Chanukah party in the waiting room. Maybe that sounds off. Big parties in the waiting room and other families are coming in trying to figure out if the doctor is right and they should pull the plug. "You want some Chanukah Gelt? It's chocolate in silver foil."
I say celebrate it all. Every moment. I’m alive. Celebrate the stroke. And cry. People should cry a little. I want to know people are crying.
You can enjoy the holiday in the hospital. Put up streamers. That's all I want are streamers.

I've started thinking positive and appreciating the small things. That sounds cliche. But when your way of celebrating Chanukah is by seeing nurses in Santa hats, you appreciate it all. So let's count the Chanukah miracles. I coughed today and I didn't get a cramp in my stomach. That made me not want to die. The doctor didn't call me a vegetable or a Chanukiah today. The chaplain thought I was an ornament holder. Did I get any Chanukah gifts? Got a blood transfusion. I guess that was a gift. My butt got wiped today. That was appreciated. Nobody pulled a plug. Thank Gd. My TV is on. They haven't changed the channel from Weather in eight days. But at least no plugs were pulled on me. Maybe my family loves me.
People are caroling. That’s nice. I guess I’ll take those as Jewish songs.

If my kids came around, that would be a miracle.
"Can somebody hear me?! I want streamers!!!! I guess I am not saying anything. Can somebody hear my thoughts?! Steamers!!! It's a holiday. Steamers!!! I need streamers in my room. Stop looking at the machine. Put streamers on it."
We have to celebrate each moment on this earth by doing good. Even when we have it real bad, we need streamers. Maybe that's the morphine talking.
My prayers will be answered if people still appreciate me, and somebody gets streamers. Streamers!!! It's a holiday!!!!

I want my family to go to the shul Chanukah party. But I also want them to come here and tell me how messed up it was. I want them to celebrate with me too.
What I'm trying to say is holidays are about joy. Celebrating is about joy. Not Latkes that turn out to be soggy Tater Tots. That's how Mrs. Pinkowitz makes them. We all know it's Tater Tots. They're tiny round Latkes. The chaplain gets that. My family doesn't get that. And I need streamers!!! Streamers!!!

These people have already called me a vegetable. It's been two days. I think. Don't know how long I was out for. Could've been an hour, two days, a month. Could've been a year. Cindy's hair definitely looks longer. And I am a vegetable already. This means they don’t talk to me. They talk about me. And I now hate the doctor. And my kids don't have to visit.

Oh shoot. They're taking blood again. That blood guy is not fun.
I haven't been to the American Red Cross in years. I did not sign a consent for this. I am not one to donate blood. I haven't given anything since my kids started going to private school. That tuition.

I had to yell, "Sir!!! This is not the time to be taking my blood and giving it to others!!! What the hell?!!! Why are you poking me. Don't you think I should be resting now." I don't believe now is the right time to take my blood. I need it.
This guy is stabbing me. Does he not know how to find blood? He's poking me all over, pulling out hairs.
Oh shoot. He's using the tape and he doesn't even have it in the right place. He's going to have to pull off the tape again. Damn. This guy is torturing me. Please stop pulling off the tape.
Thank Gd he only took a sample.

And now I have a scratch again. Damn. That is painful. I think it might be worse than the tape. It would've been nice if he poked my the back of my ear. He was poking everywhere else. At least he would've helped with the itch.

My kids are good by the way. My ex-wife told them to not worry about their dad. She said nothing about prayer. Nothing about visiting and being there with their dad after he almost died. She says, "They're too young to give a ----." That's how she watches out for the kids. She lets them know that love and care are not important. She wants them to be focused on good grades, because that's what makes a great human being. Good grades and a dead dad. And not having to think about other people. She said their teachers agree. This is the American education I am paying for.

So, I don't believe these people here respect me. They just told my girlfriend and my mom I'm a vegetable. I think they're going along with it because the doctor said it. Anything the doctor says is correct in my family. So, now I'm a vegetable. Did the doctor also tell my ex that caring about your parents is not important. Did he tell her that Gd's commandments mean nothing when it comes to getting into a decent college? Did he tell her to not have a heart? Did he tell her that alimony is supposed to be my full paycheck?

I'm sorry. It's been a hard day. I am now foliage.
A vegetable?! Did they just call me a vegetable?!
I guess my life is ruined people are going to treat me like ----. Talk about me, in front of me, like I am a teenage legume.
What an a-hole. This doctor. I can care less if you resuscitated me. Who calls somebody a vegetable?!
What kind of vegetables am I? Am I broccoli? Brussels sprouts? Bell peppers? Maybe that's why my kids aren't visiting. They hate brussels sprouts. I think brussels sprouts are amazing. I would've gladly been a sprout.
I guess vegetables do have feelings.
That's it. I'm a carnivore. I am never eating vegetables again. I have a heart. I'm sure my ex is eating a huge salad right now. probably telling the kids it's healthy to eat vegetables. She has no heart.
If I was a science project, they would visit. If I was that thing where they stick toothpicks in potatoes, their mom would let them love me again.

Finally a decent nurse. I think. Thank Gd the blood guy is not the IV nurse.
She's poking me too. Does anybody in this place know how to find a vein???!
Now it makes sense. This is why the girl is poking me like a fool. She thinks I'm cabbage. And cabbage does not have veins.
This is great. The blood guy is coming back. The doctor probably told blood guy to come back and saute me.
I'm a bit worried about that alimony thing. Is she going to take me to court while I have a trach?! I think I just heard the doctor tell her that the money is rightfully hers. I hate this doctor.

And they're pulling off the tape again. Ouch!!!!! Now that hurts. That hurt more than the stroke. That is more painful than listening to John talk about his kids. Do these people have any idea what pain is?! From now on, I hope they just leave the needles in and leave the tape!!!
"Again!!! Please. Just leave the tape. Never remove tape from my body. I'm a hairy guy." I don't think they heard that.

I don't think I'll be able to make the softball game next Sunday.

This sucks. Did this really happen???
Let me tell you what happened.
I thought I was gone. I was fine with that. Then somehow, I woke up and everybody was looking at me real weird. Like somebody just died. It's awkward when people are looking at you like you just died. And you did. Some were sad. I still like them. The others that had a smile on their face, it better be that they're happy I woke up.
I was fine with being gone. I was content not having to hear them complaining about pumps and augers anymore. Not having to fix stuff at the factory was not a bad reason to die. Not having to try on pants at Marshall’s, that’s a good reason to go. Between us, ice cream in general has been getting worse. Some people are even insisting frozen yogurt tastes good.

These are my thoughts. Apparently, nobody can hear me screaming. Maybe my voice is gone. I tried cracking the joke, “What's going on here? Did someone just die?” Nobody laughed. They must've not been able to hear it. Great timing too. Might have been the ambulance. Those things are loud.
They say it was a stroke. Was it a heart attack, cardiac arrest, having to raise kids? I don't know. It might have been a car accident. I don't know what happened. We'll call it a stroke. 

These are my memoirs. At least they're memories of what I can remember. I don't know. I had a serious stroke. Calm down. This is what I got. Do I have brain damage? How would I know?! All I know is that I have had to listen to a lot of people say real stupid stuff since the accident. They have definitely made me dumber.
These are the memories I have. I figured I would put this out there. I can't talk. That's what everybody is saying about me. I can't talk, I can't move, and from what I understand, some people want me dead. So, I figured I would write this with my buddy.

Day 1
I'm looking up. I have no idea what is going on.
Who are these people? I haven’t seen them before?
Did they just wake me?! I was in the middle of a good sleep. And why are they standing right by my bed?! That’s rude. Have they been watching me sleep the whole time?! Who the hell are these people?! Who the hell watches people sleep?! A little privacy would be appreciated. I think I just poohed in my bed.

Can everybody please stop staring at me?!!!
Why is everybody on top of me? And why I am in a stretcher?
Is this another doctor? Do they change my primary doctor every day?
Something is messed up here. Does anybody hear me? Please. A bit of privacy would be nice. Oh no. Some random dude is about to change me. Why do I keep on getting the guys. I would like a woman for once.
I have a lot of questions right now. And one of them is who is going to pay for all of this.
 
I guess I have a stroke. This fool in a white coat is saying, “It's a stroke.” I get it. I have a stroke. Will you shut the ---- up?! 
Why is this guy asking me questions? He knows I can't answer them. I have been yelling for the past five minutes and nothing is coming out.
How did it start? From what I remember, it was a conversation with John. Worst conversation I ever had. I have had some real bad conversations, but my head has never exploded before.

Let me take you back to when it stated.
I was hanging out with my buddy, John. Last thing I remember. John was telling me about his kids. We were in the promenade getting a cup of coffee and my brain exploded. He wouldn’t stop telling me about his kids going off to college. Yapping away about how proud he is. He just wouldn’t shut up. And boom, my brain just gave up. There is only so much hearing about John’s kids and the sports scholarships my brain can take before blowing up.
I would have to say, that the worst conversation I ever had. Even worse than the time I had to listen to Bernie's jokes at synagogue. That must be how strokes happen.

Forty-three. Who the hell gets this when they're forty-three. I am sure she's going to break up with me.

It turns out the white coat girl isn't even a doctor yet. She's still a student. She just likes saying “stroke.” Like she figured something out. I don't think now is a good time to ask her out.

Medicaid better cover this. If it was up to me, I would not be in this hole. I don't think workers comp covers conversations about how proud John is of his kids. So not talented.