To be honest: I happened to me. What the doctors called a double heart stroke in the night from the 14th to th 15th of February 2016 was something i promoted myself with my lifestyle before. But also something i wasn’t to blame because of my genes.
But that is another story, just say i learned—and i am learning—that the hard way.
Don’t believe my feigned victory sign on that picture of me (taken by my wife in grief).
… no victory at all. How pathetic.
In the hospital they manage to not let you die.
You have to go to rehab. Not the glamorous way with a last line of cocaine and last champagne with your friends. You go with the S-Bahn to a place right before Berlin.
That is no city any more. That is you, the nature and the other patients.
And it’s not the Zauberberg. Believe me. Not at all.
… not the Zauberberg. No Hans Castorp.
For the next weeks you are living in the clinic.
You have a harsh timetable—from swimming to walking to fitness to cardio to seminars and lectures to your meals to your bed.
But the first days you do not realize that your life has turned.
… you may take the lift. But do not dare to!
Unplaces … you know them.
You are a number on a letterbox.
Will you live up to that number. Do you have the 666?
Will you live up to your number?
Some things are reminiscence to the pre-digital era.
Take that pulp literature. Stories of doctors and willing patients, the risky adventures of Earls and Duchesses, the »Heimatromane« playing in the alpes where love is purely innoncent (mostly).
Trashy novels may save your live
Never forget you are in a hospital!!!
Some rooms are more honest than others …
Sports is your friend. Many friends you have.
The cross marks the cross.
Balls … what did you think?
Rings … you know the drill.
Friends? You wish.
You will make contact. You talk about your diseases, about those nights you think you will die again (literally). Everybody waits for his time to tell. But your story goes on and on …
Three men and one disease …
You remember the faces. And the diseases. But you forget the names.
… the faces you remember.
Some are really willing to die.
Smoking against boredom against the life. You shrug leave for the sports. Some want you to drink beer with them. At the evening when the nurses don’t watch. You think about the beers you want to drink in a far future. You won’t come show up.
The living dead
Yes nature there is. And you are more grateful than ever.
Morning breaks every morning.
The helping hands. They work with all of you—the ones willing to live and the others.
But now and then they need a break. They smoke.
And some day you are back to baseline.
You were below zero. Remeber the day they said you have to use the stairs? You laughed—with little air you had in your lungs.
Your best chance to climb up the steep stairs were those chairs … you hated those chairs.