It's sort of like trying. I guess it was Yoda that popularized the "You no try! You DO!" As much as this may appeal to The Castaneda Crowd, it lacks appreciation of the things, the process involved, before one "does."
There's:
Hold my beer.
Have you ever done this before?
Is there a Plan B?
Is there an extra key for the handcuffs?
The main thing here is dying..the process of getting to dead.
There are markers along the way. The ever-increasing array of medications. Similar to guinea hens, there're concentrations at the dining table and bedside. They get moved around, regroup, then spread out again.
The hospital bed, with its silent workings.
Yesterday they installed the oxygen concentrator. It buzzes along kinda like a small plane with a half decent muffler. It came rolling up the front walk with an insouciance that belied its purpose. About the size of a smallish Labrador, it has a cuddly physiognomy and the water filter evokes sentiments of Christmas bubble lights. One can almost burst into a carol....Caaaaaaaaatt Oddddoorrrrrrr Reeeeevvvviiiiieewww..,.
The plastic cannula stinks of phenols, those petroleum-based units that determine plastics' flexibility. (Imma check for glass.)
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