Well, I had my second session with the oxygen casket.

I know it’s not a casket. It’s more of a plexiglass tube on a fairly uncomfortable gurney for about two hours.

The Wound Care got new caskets, and I was the guinea pig. It looked just like the old one, although the cover was different. It was easier for Amy to move the gurney up and down,

The same corded phone, static bracelet, and glare. Since the beds are new installations, the TV didn’t work. I just kind of lay there. Well, it wasn’t kind of. I did. There wasn’t anything else to do.

The tubes worked, however. There was some crackling, but not near blinding pain. That’s a plus. It’s doable.

I closed my eyes and tried not to stare at Amy as she went about learning the new system. I didn’t want to make her self-conscious.

I started to wonder if this is a form of sensory deprivation. If the lights were out and the curtain drawn, I would be in complete darkness. No sounds. No light. I have a blanket that I can touch but there’s less than an inch between my body and the top of the casket. It’s not like I can move.

Since it’s voluntary,… well, sort of health needed voluntary… should I consider this as some sort of meditation? Would this be part of the big Yin/Yang and lead me to spiritual enlightenment?

Probably not, but it would be neat.

If the place were suddenly bombed or caught on fire, would I be safe? Nah. It’s supposed to be 100% oxygen in the tube. I’d probably toast. But I would toast fast.

I don’t think it’s bulletproof either.

That’s okay.

Then I wondered what I was supposed to be doing. I started to take really deep breaths. Held it for the count of five. Repeat

At first, that felt good, but I became a bit lightheaded and stopped. Maybe that’s something I have to build up to. My lungs are compromised. No, never smoked or anything, but the curved spine places a lot of pressure on them and the heart. Maybe I’ll keep trying. It couldn’t hurt, I guess.

Around that point, I started to itch – a lot. Legs. Shoulders. Back. Forehead, for some reason. I think my leg spasmed as I tried not to move. It would have been fairly useless anyway. I’m not supposed to itch, and the top of the casket is less than an inch from my nose.

I thought about how this is, in theory, supposed to help slow the infection and improve antibiotic absorption. That didn’t go so well because I keep thinking about my poor gut biome. All of those prebiotics are going to be nuked if they haven’t been made extinct already.

There are, supposed, to be some side perks. It is supposed to claw back the years and smooth the skin. I may look younger.

The scene from Interview with the Vampire was when Claudia was transformed from a leper to a bloodsucking doll. Her skin cleared. Hair curled. Clothes improved. Eyes sharpened. And she went to live an undead life, slayed others, and found a mom figure before turning into ash.

Maybe that’ll be me, to a degree, without the killing people part.

But, at the end of the day, all of this is a band-aid.

The oxygen casket is to help slow the infection. The antibiotics are to help slow the infection. The silver string and gauze are to help slow the infection.

The infection is going to be there – still – always until the hardware is removed.

The removal of the hardware is difficult, expensive, and takes multiple years to recover from.

I’m not getting any younger.

The antibiotics, casket, and gauze are all just extensions for what end?

Good ol’ EQ pain and suffering, I suppose.

I hope that, in some way, all of this is actually contributing – helping – someone. Even if it is by example.

But, again, to what end?

No, I’m not being dramatic.
I’m just trying to analyze and find a method for all of these motions. How much effort, attention, and energy are required?

I do not know.
But, at least I’m honest with myself, I guess. No fluffy positive thinking BS here.

Life. is life. is life.

But what is life?
How is that different than just existing?