Tomorrow

And tomorrow and tomorrow. . . .

The surgery is delayed.

Surgeon called me mid-day to say he had not started his first case yet (two big cases before mine) because of equipment problems in the OR. He sounded frustrated. 

He rescheduled some outpatient cases and I am now slated for take-off Monday AM. Please keep your seatbelt fastened low and tight around you. Especially since they may stretcher me across the street to stay overnight in the hospital. 

I wait.

I know the name 'patient'. Though I have it not.

. . .

"She should have died hereafter:

There would have been a time for such a word.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor slayer

That struts and frets [her] hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury

Signifying nothing. - Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 5, Lines 17 - 28)

Image is Kathleen before the Monona Terrace fountain before the Capitol. Photo, Dean Kesler