HENRY A. KISSINGER

June 11, 1982

Dear Mr. Ready:

I appreciated your card which I received while I was hospitalized. Your thoughtfulness and good wishes meant a great deal to me.

CABBAGE*
or
Open-Heart Surgery

You've been feeling tired, with leaden legs and
aches in your shoulders
That make it seem as if you'd been lifting boulders.

So, at last, your spouse, with a concern most earnest,
Says "I do wish you would go to see your internist.
You do and he pokes and prods, then mutters dead-pan,
"I think you should see a cardio-vascular man."

The CV also prods and pokes and questions,
and finally comes up with the following suggestions:
"The first thing to do is to have a coronary catheterization.
and if that shows what I think it will show, you had
better be prepared for an open-heart operation."

The cath lab director is most kind and his equipment superior
And there on a 10-inch screen is live TV of your heart's interior.
No missing the blockage, no question of dodging,
For it's sure that the hospital's where you'll be lodging.

So back to your surgeon and he explains most tersely,
That if you don't have a by-pass, matters will go from
badly to worsely.

The date is arranged and you check yourself in,
and the hospital routine's about to begin.
Then follow some questions plus test after test
When all that you want is to get in some rest.

And finally, just when you would have liked to have slept
Comes the shaving routine, you have to be "prepped".
What's left of the night is spent tossing and turning.
You drift off at last and suddenly the light goes on and
a cheerful voice sings "Good morning!"

No escape from it now. They give you a shot,
So you'll be all relaxed, which is precisely what you are not.
Strong hands come to shift you from bed to a stretcher.
And you say to yourself "Wouldn't I like to get out of
this now? You betcha."

What journey is this? You gaze as the ceiling
slips past, not sure what you're feeling.
You know there is danger but are sure that you trust
In God and your surgeon, that Faith is a must.

Hospitalese: CABG - Coronary Artery By-pass Graft
Street slang: similar to lettuce, a compact wad of green, i.e. money

Cabbage-2

The double doors open and you are rolled in
Those overhead lights now start in to spin.
Masked people are busy, you are shifted again,

An IV attached - you listen but then -- -- -- . . .

The next thing you know you are conscious of light.
Every part of you feels it has been in a fight.
Then follows a phantasmagoria of shapes and of sounds
Formless faces and voices that circle each other in
rounds and rounds and rounds.

A gradual return of consciousness brings
A very keen sense of a number of things.
There are tubes that feed in and tubes that drain out.
The one in your throat you could gladly do without.

Then comes the therapist, your breathing his function.
He begs you to cough and when you do so you feel
you are ready for Extreme Unction.
Farewell to Intensive Care and every intensive carer.
You are now in the room where you hope you will be
a transitory wayfarer.

Your progress is marked by the state of your diet.
Liquid clear, then opaque, then much and you try it.
Salt-free cereal, purées, jello and tea,
The reason babies spit all this stuff out again is plain to see.

The surgeon drops by to check on your state,
Accompanied by a retinue of meds and semi-meds,
they must number eight.
Prepare for the rite of changing the dressing.
You gaze at your stitches while they do their messing.

The garish long cleavage now catches the eye,
And that roast loin of pork, all tied and ready for
the oven, is really your thigh.
At last comes a day, a moment of glory
When, with faltering step, you are able to walk
to the lavatory.

You join with the marchers who pace the long halls
And find that you've missed two important phone calls.
The surgeon one day gives his grudging consent
To sign your release. You should be content.

You must exit by wheelchair which makes a detour.
The office of cashier awaits, to be sure.
They've assembled the charges and medical fees.
"That will be Ten Thousand Dollars, please."

Rachel Reinstein

Antrim, NH-February 1982

HENRY A. KISSINGER

March 19, 1982

Dear Residents:

to you. "Take time
—to smell the roses."

Sincerely —

Karl & Nan Riedel
639 Cedar Point Chaussee
Sandusky, Ohio 44870

Boy with a Boot was brought from Baden, Germany in 1876, by Voltaire Scott and is a favorite subject of photographers and artist alike. Located in Sandusky's Washington Park which abounds with unique artistic floral displays.

Photo by William Thomas

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