King's Heath or Kings Heath?

Lawmakers in England are abolishing the apostrophe on street signs.

Do you think the headline of this AP article (via Yahoo! News) is meant to be a joke?

Its [sic] a catastrophe for the apostrophe in Britain

Regardless, I fall in line with the purists and also Marie Clair of the Plain English Society: "[Apostrophes] are such sweet-looking things that play a crucial role in the English language. It's always worth taking the effort to understand them, instead of ignoring them."

The opposition: "We keep debating apostrophes in meetings and we have other things to do."

I agree it's not worthy of extensive debate, but avoiding debate and doing things properly are not mutually exclusive propositions. Keep the apostrophes.

Surgery: San Francisco General Hospital

Today was surgery. I think it went well. At least that's what a nurse told me. Or maybe she was a medical student. Or perhaps an anesthesiologist. I don't really remember. What can I say. I was groggy waking up from the 90-minute procedure. But I'm pretty sure said individual spoke with my surgeon. Or at least spoke with someone who spoke with my surgeon.

How is it that I could have surgery and not speak with my surgeon after the procedure?

Welcome to health care in the United States!

I have no complaints, though. San Francisco General Hospital is organized chaos and everyone there was both friendly and seemed to genuinely care. Plus my surgeon was beautiful. Well, I suppose I do have one complaint: I wasn't allowed to wear my glasses; therefore, I couldn't fully appreciate her wonderful personality.

Not only did I have to remove my glasses, but I had to strip naked and don a hospital gown, and there were at least eight doctors/anesthesiologists/nurses in the operating room. That seems like a lot for one broken finger. Imagine if I had broken all ten.

Today was my fourth visit to the hospital since the injury. Each time the splint/cast/bandage/wrapping/medical apparatus/whatever you want to call it, gets larger and larger.

First it was just a small splint on two fingers.



Then it was a larger splint on three fingers and my wrist.



Now I'm ready for the second coming of King Tut.


I'm also ready for more painkillers. It feels like someone is gripping my finger with pliers. God almighty it hurts. I underestimated what an ordeal today would be. Managing this blog post was all I could do to take my mind off the pain for a minute.

PS: Two of the photos were taken in the mirror, which is why it looks like the injury changed hands. I bet you didn't even notice. I bet no one's even reading this.

PPS: I injured my right hand (ring finger). Hopefully they were able to straighten it out. It was bent all kinds of crooked, and I was told there is no guarantee that it will be straight again, and it will never be perfect, but "we'll do our best." That's good enough for me.

PPPS: A huge thank you to my buddy Andrew for driving me to the hospital at 6:30 a.m. and then picking me up later. Not to mention the side trip to the grocery store so I could buy some fresh soup. What I really wanted was pizza. Unfortunately the nurse said greasy food was off limits. Fortunately that tomato-lentil soup was excellent, though some of that might have been the fact that it was my first meal in 24 hours.

VERDICT: REDUX

I spent another seven hours today at the hospital, where I learned that I'll need two surgeries instead of just one. But that's enough about surgery. I'm tired of it already and the first one isn't until next week. I'm also tired of people telling me how "lucky" I am that it wasn't worse and/or that things "can only get better" from here. I'm staying positive, but I'm also acutely aware that life itself has no memory. Just because something bad happened last week doesn't mean something worse won't happen next week; however, next week is going to be totally awesome. I can feel it.

I read Thomas Pynchon's "Gravity's Rainbow" today in the waiting room. I made it through 71 pages in approximately four or five hours of waiting. Not a stellar pace. Especially not for a book that's nearly 800 pages. It's critically acclaimed by some, but I'm not surprised that the Pulitzer board declared the book, "unreadable, turgid, overwritten and obscene."

I'm not sure about obscene, but it is definitely unreadable. On the broken other hand, some have called it the greatest work of literature in the 20th century. To each his own, but I will not be continuing the Pynchon journey. Please let me off at the next stop.

Can you tell I'm getting better at typing with one hand?

This past weekend I read two other books, both by Robert Littell: "The Defection of A.J. Lewinter" and "The Once and Future Spy." Neither were as good as Littell's "The Company," which remains as maybe the most enjoyable book I've ever read, but each was enjoyable in its own way. Lewinter covers the cat-and-mouse disinformation of espionage whereas Future Spy focuses more on morality and patriotism. You could read either in two sittings.

Next I might read Tom Robbins. Not sure yet.

VERDICT: SURGERY

Today the doctor told me I need surgery on my broken right hand. It could be a while before I'm blogging with two hands (or at all). Surgery within the next two weeks. Six weeks in a cast after that. Immobilized in a forearm splint until then. I'm going to try to write 1,000 words/day with my left hand. I may be overestimating my abilities to work with only my weak hand. We shall see.

Et cetera

It's one in the morning. About 12 hours before the Tennessee Titans square off against Baltimore's Holy Trinity. I can't sleep. Plus I need practice typing with a broken hand.

A few random notes:

1) I have been watching Planet Earth. Both the narration and imagery are incredible. Beyond first rate. Buy it yesterday. It's guaranteed to be better than whatever terrible reality TV show you've been watching. Voyeurism is better when nature is the main character. Humans? We're boring, selfish and terrible by comparison.

2) During my ten-hour visit to the emergency room on Tuesday, I read "Agents of Innocence," by David Ignatius. The unsettling sounds of the E.R. provided an eerie albeit appropriate soundtrack for a story that takes place in the war-torn Middle East of the 1970s: seedy spies, car bombs, terrorists, people dying and screaming and crying, and so on. It is an excellent book, although I was slightly disappointed with how the plot came together at the end. Much of the action takes place in Lebanon, and it reminded me of a great P.J. O'Rourke story I read a few years ago, "A Ramble Through Lebanon," which appeared in an anthology that I reviewed for the San Francisco Chronicle.

3) I bought a new iPhone last night. For some reason, it synced using a backup from months ago instead of a more recent backup that was available but has since disappeared from my hard drive. I lost all of my phone numbers entered since August. Kind of a bummer. Oh well.

4) Did I mention how much I love Baltimore's hottest new drama? The Joe Flacco Show!

5) I watched the first couple hours of Band of Brothers. So far, so good.

DIAGNOSIS: BROKEN

I spent 10 hours at the hospital on Tuesday and then did a short stint at the police station on Wednesday. I realized the day after the attack that I also lost my Blublockers during the scuffle. I made sure to include that in my report. I was not happy about losing my lucky shades. The world looks better through Blu. Now everything looks so -- what's the word I want? Average. Fortunately they did not get my wallet nor did they get my backpack and laptop. I expect more from thieves. They were so -- what's the word I want? Average.

My ring finger (right hand) is badly broken. It's an oblique, elliptical fracture at an angle greater than 30 degrees. Or maybe it was 30 percent. I don't remember what the doctor said. I do remember that fingers aren't supposed to bend that way, though. By next week I will know if I need surgery. I am meeting with a surgeon on Tuesday. Fortunately the state of California may cover my medical bills because I was the victim of a violent crime and have no health insurance. Who knew. Best news I've heard all year. Definitely better than average.

Happy New Year, I guess

2009 has so far been less than hot, son.

• I saw a movie where Philip Seymour Hoffman gets naked
• I got robbed by two thugs, losing my iPhone and breaking a finger in the fight

I'm not sure which is worse.

On one hand: Nobody should film Philip Seymour Hoffman unless he is wearing no fewer than 14 layers of clothing, and even then I'd argue there are better ways to spend your time. Like filming Marisa Tomei naked. But you know what ruins a nude scene with Marisa Tomei? Philip Seymour Hoffman. Naked. Whispering to Marisa in a butchered foreign language. I just threw up in my mouth.

On the other hand: I'm halfway finished my debut novel, cranking on all cylinders and writing daily. But now that I can type with only one hand, thanks to my broken finger, productivity comes screeching to a halt. By the time I finish this post, it will be next week. But naked Philip Seymour Hoffman is in my past, which while bad is certainly better than having naked Philip Seymour Hoffman in your present or future.