Yesterday the doctor said “Go home.  You had food poisoning … nothing more.”

I smiled and followed orders.  I put on my well used street clothes again, gathered my meagre belongings, thanked the nurses and asked for directions to the business office.  “Be thorough, Bruce.  You’ll don’t know how your Belgian health insurance will co-exist with a German hospital.”  I got my answer from a compassionate woman … and then walked out the front door to breathe real air and see actual human beings filling the sidewalk.

Oh, bliss!

I went back to the agonizing intersection of early Saturday morning, where the supposed door to the Emergency department was locked.  I just stood there, reliving the sorrow, the nausea, the dizziness.  “Go towards it, Bruce.  Don’t back away.”  The few minutes being there yesterday were good therapy for me.

In the previous days, I had looked out my window at life on the street below.  I vowed to stand on the sidewalk and look up after being discharged. 

And so I did:

I had left the blinds open when I left.  How marvelous the reflection in my window.

I started walking back to the Airbnb, knowing that my next stop would be the restaurant where I got the food poisoning.  I walked in and recognized the manager from Friday.  I told him what happened, and there was peace in my heart as I spoke.  I wanted them to be aware of a problem so that it doesn’t happen to someone else.  He responded with sadness, and with a genuine thank you.  We met.

The manager offered to buy me something.  I said “No beer, and certainly no pizza!  How about a cappuccino?”  And so I sat on their terrace and watched people moving every which way … and a flock of birds creating ovals in the sky.

I was happy.  And I thought of a quote that I’ve tried to follow for maybe twenty years:

Never throw anyone out of your heart

(Neem Karoli Baba)

No one – not a restaurant manager, not someone who did something mean to me, not even Donald Trump.  They also deserve my respect, my empathy … my love.

***

Jeez, I’m tired.  There isn’t the oomph to tell you about the rest of my yesterday.  So I’ll just say this:

I’m home!

And my bed is saying “Come on down”

I’ll continue tomorrow