The Bat Bird

This is not my photo.  Duh.  But I like the set.  Were I to have another studio. . . . 

But where was I?  Oh. . . I feel much better now.  I'm not all the way "there" yet, but my mind is clearing.  My body seems to be warming up.  I've turned my a.c. down a degree back to where it is normally.  My vision is still blurry, but I think/hope it is getting better.  The shakes seem to be gone.  

And last night, I cooked a big meal.  Maybe not "big," but normal.  

I'd never made salmon patties before.  My mother makes them, and I love them, but I have never tried.  Last night, I tried.  I looked up recipes online.  Too many variations, too many ingredients.  I went with the simplest one and maybe made it even simpler.  Chopped onion, canned salmon, two eggs, Panko breadcrumbs, and olive oil.  Shall I reveal that I have never used Panko before?  No, I shouldn't.  

I smashed it all together in a big steel bowl, then made patties.  I read that you should put the patties in the 'fridge for anywhere from thirty minutes to all day, but I didn't have time for that.  My patties fell apart a little bit.  I put olive oil in the cast iron pan and cooked the patties for four minutes per side over medium/high heat.  Rice and asparagus.  

Damn.  I forgot to add the spices to the patties.  There were bland.  Next time.  But they were o.k.  Not as good as mom's, but o.k.  I ate two big patties, all the asparagus, and a big portion of rice.  Coconut water was the drink of choice.  I haven't eaten a full meal in a week and a half.  

I felt I'd put on all the weight I lost.  But I felt good. 

Look, bitches, that's all I got.  I haven't been anywhere, haven't seen anyone.  I walk, read books, watch t.v.  I've had a retarded brain.  I guess I can report that the mild hallucinations are gone.  There is that.  

Oh. . . I DO have a tale to tell.  It comes from the weekend I was so terribly sick from the antibiotics.  I was weak, shaky, puking and out of my mind.  I was lying on the couch toward dusk on Saturday napping.  I woke when I thought I heard someone in the house.  I thought it might be my tenant, and I called out her name in query.  There was some disturbance, then I saw something fly through the living room.  WTF?  I was already paralyzed by illness.  Now?  

I lay on the couch listening.  I heard nothing.  I forced myself up onto shaky legs and peered around the corner.  On the window shutter in the dining room was a big, black, cowled thing.  It was HUGE and looked like the Caped Crusader or a sleeping Dracula.  Fuck me, I thought.  What was I going to do?

I have a big net in the garage that I have used over the years to catch armadillos, but the netting was too wide for this.  I didn't want to fuck with a bat.  My reflexes were non-existent at this point.  My tenant had been clipped by a flying bat a year or so ago and had to go through the rabies shots.  She said it cost ten thousand dollars.  I don't know.  I consider her an unreliable source.  But I didn't want to go through the rabies thing, so. . . I called her.  

"I don't know what to do.  There is a bat in my house.  I'm sick.  I can't try to catch the thing."

"O.K.  I'll call the police."

Call the police?  My mind was flip-flopping.  Nothing made sense.  O.K. I thought.  I'm going to let her take care of it.  

She came down, but wouldn't come into the house.  I sat in a chair on the deck barely able to move.  This was the day before I went to the hospital, and I mean, I was sick in my bones.  

The cops showed up, a young Black man and a White cop with tats all over his arms.  He was the same cop who came out to take my report when my cameras were stolen.  

"It's hanging on the shutter in the dining room," I said as I led them into the house.  They peered into the dining room from the kitchen.  

"How are you going to get it?" I asked.  

They looked at one another then at me.  

"I'm not going near that thing," said the Black guy.  "I'm not messing with a bat."

The White guy called animal control.  It was Saturday night.  

"They didn't answer," he said,  "I left a message.  We'll see if they call me back."

We all hung out on the deck for a bit.  No call back.  The White cop started searching the internet on his phone and came up with three numbers of private critter control companies.  He gave them to my tenant.  

"I doubt that animal control will respond.  You might want to call one of these companies," he said.  And with that, the police were gone.  The tenant called two of the numbers.  One was in a different part of the state.  One was an answering service.  The last one, however, said he'd be out in half an hour.  

He showed up in shorts and a t-shirt and a pair of surgical gloves.  I took him into the house and showed him the bat.  He walked back to his truck and got a small net, maybe eighteen inches in diameter.  

"He's got it!" said the tenant who was watching him through the window.  It had taken about ten seconds.  When he came out, he was grinning.  

"How many people looked at this thing and thought it was a bat?"

"Four."

He laughed.  "It's a bird."

WTF?  He looked it up.  It was a chimney swift.  Of course.  It had come into the house through the chimney.  That is what woke me up.  That is what made all the clatter.  

"I'll take it with me and let it go at my house.  If I let it go here, it will just go back to your chimney."

He was a swell guy.  I hadn't talked to him on the phone, didn't know anything but that he was coming.  

"How much do I owe you?" I asked.  

"Two hundred."

Holy shit!  What could I do?  I was sick and wanted to get back on my couch.  When he was gone, I said to the tenant, "Two hundred bucks!"

"He was going to charge five hundred, but since it was so easy. . . ."

"What?  Five hundred dollars?  You're shitting me!"

"No.  That's what he said on the phone."

I was too weak and sick to complain.  I was just glad the thing was gone.  

I called the tenant the next day to take me to the hospital.  You know the rest.  

I'm lucky.  I've had multiple people offer to take me to surgery on Monday.  I've not asked anyone, of course.  These were all acts of kindness.  But I don't want to bother anyone.  The day will be a drag.  The surgical center called to tell me that I needed a driver and someone to stay with me for 24 hours after the surgery.  That pissed me off.  They make too many assumptions.  They should have just done this in the hospital and kept me overnight, I think.  

Whatever.  That is where I am.  Now it's on to yogurt and oatmeal.  Not combined, of course.  Gut bacteria and fiber.  I need to get healthy.  

It is raining and will be, reportedly, for days.  The rainy season has come early this year.  Temperatures are above the norm.  The college kids have moved out.  The town is quiet but for weekends when the hoi-polloi come to town, but they are an ugly lot.  I will walk in the drizzle and the rain.  That's all I have.