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Happy Anniversary

by Nick Di Giovanni

By Nick Di Giovanni

I didn’t have a phone in my room, as it wasn’t too plush a hospital. It’s late and I lay tossing in my bed the day’s course of chemotherapy having thoroughly kicked my ass. A nurse came and plugged in the phone she carried. “It’ll ring in a few moments, I shouldn’t be doing this, but it sounded important.” My hair was almost all gone now; my moustache falling into the sink had horrified me.

The phone rang and it’s a laughing Moe Viletto. “Hey, man, we’re coming to bust you out. So be ready.”

I waited until the nurse left the room, rolled up my clothes around my sneakers, and climbed back under the covers to wait. I really needed out of this place. I wasn’t eating or drinking anything so they had me hooked up to a water bag and I had to yank out the needle. I was thinking if I didn’t leave now I never would. A half hour later I peered into the hallway and all was clear. I walked down the corridor as calmly as possible and then hit the stairs running. I stood outside the hospital hiding in a bush until I saw them circling the parking lot and then I jumped into the car. I looked at Moe and said, “Let’s blow . . .”

“Let’s,” Moe replied.

“There’s a rig back there if you want it, brother.” I was pretty weak, but figured if I could get in, and get up, I could handle the rest. They both had to help me up the last few floors, and they helped me get geared up too, but I managed it other than sort of landing in a heap. I felt myself coming back to life. And I did, as all that happened in March of 1990.

Submitted by Nick Di Giovanni on 2007-06-19 | Last Modified on 2007-06-28

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