My father has been in the hospital recovering from two brain surgeries after a sudden brain aneurysm 15 days ago. There's this mechanical rotating door to one of the hospital's facilities that I've had to use every day in visiting him. The trick with the door is that you're not supposed to touch it. It is still until it senses someone in it's chamber, you are then supposed to walk slowly forward and it will rotate automatically. However, you have to walk at the perfect pace, relatively slow (but not too slow!) and if you foul this up the rotating will stop and you're stuck there. People tend to freak out when this happens. The door admonishes you not to touch it. You have to back up a few paces and begin to take slow steady steps forward to get it going again. I am typically a fast walker and as a result I've been momentarily trapped in the door several times but I've finally perfected the appropriate gait. It requires loads and loads of sarcasm. I keep my paces slow by cocking my head to the side, slinging one hip out and kicking my legs out in extra long strides while letting my feet hit the floor heavily and rolling through each step with a sneering cowboy swagger. I shoot my eyeballs skyward and exhale in exasperation. Most of the time I let my arms dangle heavily at my sides like weights from the depths of hell are pulling them down. To spice things up every so often I'll throw my arms up in the air beseechingly. The mechanical door is of course unaffected by the burn of my sarcasm. It's a pity. My dad has been moved to a rehabilitation facility today where the doors are sliding. I am quite relieved at his transfer. Despite my father's frustration and disappointment around this sudden shift in his otherwise perfect health he's doing remarkably well.
