Ciao mondo!!

Welcome to WordPress.com. This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!

Tutto bene, Eva?

Da quando sei uscita dalla Maugeri, non ho più saputo nulla di te, giovane Eva. Spero che ciò significhi che tutto va bene e sei felice, al punto da non avere tempo a pensare al vecchio Hombre.

Ci siamo incontrati in un momento difficile per entrambi, come gli antichi galeoni nell’immenso oceano, che facevano un poco di rotta insieme per scambiarsi posta e saluti, poi si allontanavano per il loro destino.

Tieni sempre saldo il timone della tua vita, Eva, e stai sempre serena: io so che vali ed io sono Hombre, uno che se ne intende. E non sentirti mai sola, perlomeno da qualche parte io ti voglio e ti vorrò sempre bene disinteressatamente.

Dancing with the death – Silvia

Giacomo, mille scuse per l’omonimia, ma anche la mia dottoressa Silvia se lo merita.

 

Angelo dai capelli

come l’ala del corvo

e il pallido viso

delle forti passioni,

il tuo sorriso ad occhi

a fessura devasta

il mio cuore ferito,

medico e carnefice,

impossibile starti

irritato vicino.

Smanie di gloria

Il Governo Prodi aveva lasciato le truppe italiane in Afghanistan defilate ad Herat in operazioni di polizia. Ciò nonostante qualche morto c’era scappato.

Ma per il nuovo governo berlüsca, per compiacere al bwana bush in caduta verticale e prossimo ad andarsene fuori dalle palle della Storia, e al suo ministro Ignazio Faccia di M Larussa, smanioso di gloria militare, era troppo poco, e offrono i nostri Tornado per bombardare Kandahar, e uccidere vecchi donne e bambini afghani per la maggior gloria d’Italia.

Beh, quando ci scapperanno le donne e i bambini afghani storpiati e uccisi dai nostri Tornado, venite qui a sputare sul nostro glorioso ministro, e poi mettetevi allo specchio e sputatevi in faccia per averlo votato a suo tempo.

Dancing with the death – Weblin style

After the call by Céline, almost brought back to life, I meet also my weblin spirit.

A young nurse, particularly, merits a lesson. She is very acid with me, because I’m not using assiduously the oxigen mask. She has partly reason, because this is important for me as great smoker (former smoker since tuesday) to take oxigenated my blood, but uses an expression particularly unfair with a buddy in the room:

— You, ***, will do the end of this one, who returned a seconf time intubated for smoking.

 

She may be right with that man, but has no herself the duty of a public humiliation. I would say her that if I stop smoking, it will not be for some oxigen more or less as that man, why I’m Hombre, girl. But this would be worst offensive with my unfortunate buddy. I find instead an answer weblin-style, obviously Hombre-weblin-style. I turn to her companion on duty:

— I don’t know why your companion is so bad and acid with me, meanwhile I love her very much.

 

The beloved nurse no longer dared to add other comments, before I get out something more heavy.

 

By the way, it’s since May, 20th I don’t smoke, from 40-50 every day. I don’t say it’s easy, I say it is.

Why I’m Hombre.

Dancing with the death – The voice

May, 22th, Thursday, they return me in a normal hospital room from the intensive care room. This start days very confused for my weakness, faces of doctors and nurces whom give account of my conditions, but also my wife Emy and daughter Vale, and my sister, brothers, brothers-and-sisters-in-law.

And suffering. My breastbone, cut to reach the hearth, launches stitches with each breath. To every cough, despite the technical they have taught me,  it seems to me the chest would open. My right leg, wounded from knee to foot to take away my safena vein doing bypasses for, is burning as hell. In these conditions I lost enough the sense of time and also of day.

 

When I have had the sensation of what was happen to me, I gave to my daughter the duty to warn italian weblin through Lalla, and international weblin through Céline. Then things were precipitated, and I had no time to ask her. In one of those not separately days and hours of pain, my cellphone sound, no name and an unknown number. A female voice speaking French, not the soft French of France, a little more strong by Germanic inflections.

Well before she can say her name, my wounded heart does a bounce, guessing the never heard voice: it cannot be else than that of my wonderful, my sweetest Céline. All around me suddenly is cancelled, confusion, pain, only exists her voice. I cannot say other than few and silly words why tears and emotions fill my eyes and throat.

 

Maybe for you, my dear Céline, that was a simple gesture of affection, but for me had a great effect. You donate me, in the lowest moment of my life, the emotion to attach the wish of living again, despite of pains, doubts, depressions. I never forget, Céline, also seeing my hundredth birthday. May God bless you and your family; I will do surely.

Dancing with the death – The bypasses

As regards the surgical intervention itself, I’m sorry, cannot tell you much. Apart the general anaesthetic, my mind have removed many fact well around it. It’s not first case, when young, in a motorcicle incident, I forgot the whole afternoon before it.

Last memory of previous evening it’s funny. A female doctor had some doubt about status of my carotids: she returned with a technician of doppler to investigate.

— You have wonderful carotids, mr. ***.

— I give you a great kiss, doctor: this is first good news I have after immemorial time.

She laughs, a woman of spirit is a blessing.

 

A memory linked to my surgery is probably only my subjective, not less true, however. I’m lying on a narrow cot, naked under a sheet, alone in a big room very cold, terribly cold. I have the impression that something in the end went wrong, as in all previous occasions. The impression is to be waiting the end, as a trash of operation. I think to this with calm, without regret, I lived, I’m always ready to make my accounts. Is God ready too? I’m not a tender judge, He has no illusions, I’m Hombre!

 

Ah, objectively, my surgery was at May, 21st, Wednesday, from 7:30 to 13:30, then I was in intensive care room since next morning.

 

Dancing with the death – Child’s dream

Let you confess: who didn’t dream a travel in ambulance with crying sirens and full speed?

Alright, the perfection is not of this world: the doctor in command is strong and clear:

— Sirens but normal speed.

It will be for another life, sorry.

Dancing with death – Blind alley

— From here we don’t go.

May, 20th, Tuesday, early morning. I’m naked under a green sheet, cold in body and soul. I’m hearing a list of we-cannot, it’s-impossible, it’s-useless.

 

In a doctor’s pause – started by my right femoral they are observing my heart on a screen that without glasses is an indistinct stain – I intervene with a voice more calm as possible, noblesse oblige:

— Then nothing to do, doctor. I must prepare to go out.

— Absolutly no, mr. ***. In angioplastic sure, but we have the chance of by-passes: no more than 3, I bet. Unfortunately not at Vigevano Hospital. The principal is just contacting the St. Mattiews at Pavia. Come on, boy, let us collect the best documentation possible for our colleagues. The time is short.

 

Another half an hour of cold, very cold, in the body and soul.

 

Dancing with death – The veronica

May, 19th, Monday, a cardiologist programmed visit, I had almost forgotten. I left my pc on, sure to return home soon; I’m feeling well, only the rhythm of my heart a little irregular, AVIS doctor advised me a control.

— If I were you, I would remain here for more accurate investigation. — the cardiologist, after examined my new ECG.

 

Half an hour later reaches me the cardiology principal.

— We have reasons to believe you made a myocardial infarction in last 3-4 days, light and not warned, thing not strange in a diabetic one, but clearely signaled by instruments. It must not have compromise the functionality of your heart, but we expect a big episode in short time.

— Short… how much?

— By next weeend. We can avoid, with a coronary survey and a reduction of stenosis in angioplasty. Obviously you can ask a consultation, but we believe time is crucial.

— I would search whom ask… I trust in you science, professor. Come on.

 

Saying so calmly is easier than sleeping on the eve. It’s so that I compose the poem Waiting in the night, published in my other site because many weblin names. Only a smile, closing my blocking notes, I will have time to publish? Sure, I will. With a veronica, I will avoid the death.