That's all I've got, Reader Dear, to indicate where I might have slipped off to during my vacation from real life! To set the stage, the doctors had determined the resuscitation procedure had damaged another artery in my heart. I languished on life support for six days while they waited for me to recover enough to perform a second surgery on me, and now I was starting the comeback process for a second time. I was at the point where I was squeezing hands and nodding and tentatively stepping back into reality.
And now I had something I wanted to make known to The Yard Man and Only Son (the two who were in attendance at the time, and standing by my bed). I tried to voice the words, but what was this?! I couldn't make a sound! Again and again I tried to speak. I was not cognizant enough to know that I had a tracheotomy tube down my throat. No words came forth. Desperately, I tried and tried, but, oh...they couldn't read my lips! Finally, I resorted to charades.
Dear Reader, how would one act out the word "holy"? I was in a predicament! I folded my hands together, mouthing holy, holy, holy.
"Pray for you?!" Only Son asked animatedly, sure that he'd hit on what I was attempting to say.
Alas, no. I shook my head. I certainly wasn't averse to prayers, but it wasn't what I wished to convey.
It was then that someone had the idea to bring me paper and a pen. Of course! I would write out my words!
Viewer Dear, it is with some chagrin that I show you this chicken-scratching. The upper line in the photo above is my attempt to spell out three words. "Holy" is the first word (H-o-l-y, the letters all written on top of one another).
Naturally, the two men standing by my bed could not glean a shred of meaning from these messy scribbles. (Unless you've become privy to the information already, neither will you, Dear Viewer!
Though you're welcome to take your best guess!)
I tried again.
(back later, Dear Reader, with slightly more readable script)