First, I think I might have jumped the gun in announcing Denis’s NY Times Bestseller status. He sent me this: Download file
and I see it’s dated December 7th. I guess they report this week’s bestsellers next week?

Anyway, today I just want to say how thankful I am to have all you loyal blog readers. As many of you know I began the blog last spring in order to help promote my book, Outtakes From a Marriage. I really didn’t think I’d keep it up, once the book promotion was over. But I have kept it up – this is entry # 224! I have kept at it because of all of you who read it every day and send such lovely emails and comments. I have come to think of many of you as friends even though we’ve never met. I have been working quite hard these past couple of months on this new book and writing in my blog has been a very welcome relief. At least I don’t have to have a plot here (though the day of the sheep attack provided me with a very compelling storyline). So thank you, my dear cyber and real friends, for reading my blog …and keep those comments coming!

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you and I hope we all will remember to think of our fellow Americans who are serving overseas, and who must be particularly homesick today.

PS – I wrote the above before I saw the terrible news about the attacks in India. So sad.

Due to my schedule, I’ve had to broadcast reruns of IN HOUSE the past two Saturdays, but tomorrow, tune in for an all-new IN HOUSE interview with my guest, the brilliant and wildly eccentric dancer/choreographer Moses Pendleton, who directs the word-famous dance company, MOMIX

I got to sit in on a few rehearsals of Botanica, Momix’s exciting new show and I used the music from the show throughout the interview, making it, I think, one of the most enjoyable shows I’ve done. Well, Moses made it enjoyable too, of course. If you’re into gardening, New England, the environment, dance, Van Gogh, sex, love, skiing, John Keats, bees, the psychological effects of color on mood, music or the creative process – if one or all of these things appeals to you – you’ll love tomorrow’s show.

And, on another, equally exciting note, I’m going home today. I don’t know if it’s a HIPA violation to name your physician, but I’ll risk it in order to thank my surgeon Dr. Jamal Rahaman and his wonderful team of residents here at Mt. Sinai hospital. I’m told the surgeons don’t always have great bedside manner, but that’s not the case with Dr. Rahaman, who is not just a great doctor, but also a great man.

Also, at the risk of forgetting some names (I’m sure I will) I’d like to thank the nursing and support staff on my floor who include Michael Quizon, Mary “Jennie” Del Prabo, Cheryl Parks, Debbie Johnson, Lucy Jumelez, Antoinette De Los Reyes …oh, I know I’m forgetting names. Some of the most helpful people helped me when I was least lucid, but if you’re a nurse, I thank you, on behalf of all patients everywhere, for the work you do. Listening to the way some patients here talk to hospital staff makes me think that the word “patient” when describing somebody under nursing care, is an almost laughable misnomer. The nurses I’ve met this week have taught me much about patience, compassion, tolerance and grace under pressure.

Hi all, I’m still in the hospital, but back to the blogging board. Thanks to all of my virtual best friends who sent the encouraging emails and comments. I can’t believe how fondly I’ve come to think of you all, though most of you I’ve never met. Thanks for the very kind thoughts and prayers.

Speaking of kindness, I have to say that nurses are a rare and beautiful breed. I devoted a whole chapter in my book, An Innocent, A Broad to singing their praises, but feel that praise is not enough for these overworked, underpaid (no matter how much they’re getting paid, it’s not enough in my mind) men and women. I was in the recovery room for several hours, and was quite awake and alert, and I had the privilege of witnessing the patience, kindness and empathy of two nurses/superheroes named Brenda and Nicole.

Now I wish I could remember their last names but I was not at my best. Anyway, they each had several post-op patients to attend to. Their patients were suffering. Some cried, cursed, demanded more medication, sometimes insisted they see a doctor NOW, and Brenda and Nicole never lost their patience. They spoke to their patients kindly, acknowledged their pain, and worked hard to stop it. At one point, Brenda was simultaneously writing something on my chart, tapping the toes of the man next to me whom she worried was overly sedated, and answering a doctor’s questions about a child who had just been brought in.The reason I remember all this is because I had an epidural in addition to general anesthesia, so when I came to, I was relatively pain free and alert and got to see all the goings on.

Now, perhaps I’m biased because my life has been somewhat in their hands the past few days, but in the looks department, the staff at Mt. Sinai puts any television hospital drama staff to shame. These people are gorgeous. If any of you are single and in your twenties or early thirties and ready to settle down, here’s what you must do. Get hurt. Not too bad. Just bad enough to get you admitted to this hospital. You will feel like a kid in a candy shop. I just had Noam Kurtis, the head of the “pain team” in here to remove my epidural and found myself blushing and flirting like a schoolgirl because the man looks more like a movie star than most of our friends who are real movie stars!

Okay, now I’m exhausted and must stop typing and go back to watching bad TV for awhile. Oh, and thanks, honey, for the guest blog!

Okay. First off – Ann is fine. If you happen to know her very well and speak to her by phone or email in the next few days , just be aware that whatever she may say or type is heavily influenced by the presence of liquid narcotics mixed with many medicines that have been shaped into pill form – all prescribed – and some of which she takes on a regular basis even when she isn’t lying prone in a designer hospital room.

Secondly – her hospital room is bigger than several of the apartments we have lived in over the years. She is being cared for by a slew of highly trained doctors and nurses with a medical staff that includes a pain team, a comfort team and even a concierge. I’m not kidding. She validated my parking garage ticket. The concierge, not Ann. I’ve gone from being very thankful and impressed to wishing there was an actual parking valet.

Mount Sinai is a fabulous hospital. They have a Starbucks in the lobby. They have room service. There is a chef. The menu is four pages long. Anyways – Ann is due to come home next Monday but has decided to stay for at least another week or until she has eaten her way through the pasta selections – whichever comes first. By the way – I think there may also be a spa. Which means she won’t be home for at least a month. So the good news is the surgery went extremely well and the bad news is visiting hours extend from now until Thanksgiving.

I will say this – the hours you spend alone waiting for the one you love to come out of surgery are – perhaps – the definition of being alone. You wait with a forced feeling of calm and maybe a magazine or three and once you’ve gotten past the first two hours and a gaggle of People pictures featuring trout-pouted celebrities, Sports Illustrated’s NFL Preview Issue and fifteen overly-clever New Yorker cartoons – one of which contains a pit bull wearing lipstick and a hockey mom reference – an itchy little panic begins to grow in the back of your mind and you give up the half-assed reading and start to wonder just exactly what the hell is going on. But every single staff person you can find has the exact same piece of information: Still in the O.R.

So the itch becomes an urge beneath an angst that begins to mulch into an ulcer of worry and fretful pacing. You pace and sit and fidget and pace. And then – she arrives. Bruised and sleepy – but there. I was never happier to see her face. My love. My wife. I’m not big on prayer – but I said many hopeful ones during those empty hours and several more in gratitude on my way back from the spa to the apartment.

Just wanted to say thanks to all the well-wishers who posted comments and emailed me privately about tomorrow. Sorry I haven’t been able to respond personally but thank you all for your nice words. xxoo Ann

It’s hard to find time to mope around about the son going off to college when I have my daughter Devin and her friend Ellen keeping me busy with their elaborate schemes. Yesterday, they came up with a plan to take our three horses to Steep Rock Land Preserve for a long trail ride. The complicated part was that I only have a two horse trailer. No problem, said the girls. I could drive two horses there, they would stay with them, then I could drive back to the barn, pick up the third and bring him to Steep Rock and we’d all go for a ride.

Despite the fact that this would add up to about three hours of horse hauling for me, I agreed, as the girls and I are riding in the Bedford Hunter Pace this weekend and I wanted to see how the horses would behave trotting and cantering together in a group. Besides, how can you turn down a pair like these two?

Or, for that matter, these two:

So we eventually got all three horses transported and we rode the beautiful trails of Steep Rock, which look like this:

Trotting through the pine groves, splashing in the river and climbing the hills of Steep Rock on horseback, accompanied by two of my favorite people on earth, was such a restorative and, I hesitate to say it – it’s so cliche – but really a spiritual experience.

Before I disengaged the “Google Alert” on my computer, I used to be able to see every nice and nasty thing anybody said about me, anywhere, on the web. One blogger said that, in addition to other despicable things about my personality, I have a blog in which I brag about what a great life I have, which made me wonder if that’s how I come across. But I do have a great life, and it wasn’t always so great, and I’m prone to depression which sometimes makes it hard for me to see all the goodness around me, so it helps to write about the good stuff. There’s so much.

I’m grateful. I’m …. again, sounds trite… incredibly blessed.