At the height of the pandemic, I was admitted to a hospital after a worse one had sent me home. I was delirious with pain, and was allowed no visitors. Once I got pain meds, I was confused from them. I couldn’t eat or drink anything, including water. It took them a week to determine that I needed my gallbladder out (some shortage with their nuclear medicine unit), and by then I was apparently also septic. Due to a mixup with my pain meds, it took an extra day to get into surgery. I missed giving the elegy for my father in law, and the whole episode is just a fuzzy kaleidoscope of pain. This was one year after fighting for days to get a kidney stone removed surgically, only to wake up in recovery with another one that no one would believe me about for another week, then having a stent for a month.

I can fully understand jumping out a window in desperation.