Coma Time

Hullo again. Sorry about the delay but I was catching up with some friends and teaching a couple classes in lovely LA for the past week. I was planning on being there during winter time but I ended

up being too busy having surgeries. I've been averaging 2 "cuttings" per year but since returning from Europe last August I ended up having to have 4 of them. It wouldn't be as bad if I could get back to "normal" type life immediately after being released from the hospital. Unfortunately each "procedure" (which I'm glad aren't amateur-cedures) requires 6-12 weeks of PT before rejoining the race. Speaking of rejoining, it's about time we get back to our companions in SA:

I was still in a coma when I arrived to my new SA residence. Now I must tell you; this was no ordinary coma. No sir-eee. I mean, with comas you always hear about things like tunnels, bright lights, dead relatives… Well, either someone fell behind paying the electric bill, my relatives were at the monthly “cousin’s club” get together, or wait, there’s this Yiddish phrase I used to hear as a kid. Ummm… Oh yeah: “Fuhgetabowdit!” (My Jewtalian cousin, Giuseppe Rosenthal, used to say that.) Anyway, it seems I must have gotten to coma land on an off day because my arrival there was met with a deafening silence. The kind not heard since the audience response to Spiderman previews! (Was that a rim shot I just heard?) I was lost, quite bored, probably had to pee, and I seriously wanted and needed to get out. I had a problem though. See, even though today’s smart phones are quite amazing, for some strange reason, the handy dandy GPS doesn’t seem to work in coma land. After wandering around aimlessly for what seemed like an eternity (probably in a circular fashion), I finally got to a free wifi area and was able to get some helpful directions. Karma, or her cousin Luck, must’ve been with me because after only a few minutes of further wondering I ended up in what turned out to be a buddhism type zone. As I glanced down I actually found a reincarnation lottery ticket someone had dropped! Now this ticket did allow the holder to return, BUT, as a:                                

GAY FEMALE AFRICAN-AMERICAN TRANS-GENDERED MUSLIM TEA PARTY MEMBER!!!! 

VERY BORING COMA

No long forgotten dead folks waiting

Angels not cooperating

No bright lights like corn from Oklahoma

Four days can really seem a long time

Good things dancers are the strong kind

Just like that whaler known as Jonah

Some people don’t make it back at all

But maybe I heard ol’ Yuval call

Or it must have been a very boring Coma

I woke up with a splitting head

How did I know I wasn’t Dead?

They served iced tea that had a nice aroma 

My folks were all set to arrive

So docs made sure I stayed alive

They even played that Knacks hit; My Sharona

Phil’s voice finally brought me back

No one ignores that Mr. Black

(Old dance teachers can be very persuasive,                                                                                                                          and Phil Black was one of the best!!)                                                                                                                                   Or it must have been a very boring coma....

Sometimes though I wonder why I came back. Some never make it back. I guess I’m just one of the lucky ones. When someone is in a coma all that can be done is wait. Sure it could’ve been because I was so bored but I sometimes think I might’ve stayed stayed longer but I didn’t really know the show they were working on and I didn’t think I’d be able to learn my part in time for the opening. Actually, I’ve been told that it helped that one thing that did help was that I was in decent physical condition when the accident happened (but just in case, I made a deal with the Devil (when I get married I’ll probably need to tell my wife not to get too attached to our first born).  The truth is, if I wouldn’t have come back my friends and relatives would have all been seriously pissed off at me for screwing up their schedules. It would’ve been so rude to die without making sure folks could fit a funeral into their schedules. 

For whatever reason, when I was in Coma Land I didn't get to meet any talking scarecrows, tin men, or lions of any persuasion. I can only imagine how fun it would've been to dance around the yellow brick road with some Munchkins and a witch or two. Oh well, maybe next time......NOT!

Now that I was out of C L what new adventures were awaiting? You'll have to torture me to find out. Either that or you could just tune in to the next installment of

ALAN'S BRAIN DAMAGE BLOG