miércoles, 22 de julio de 2009

Crónicas de un cerebro enfermo XIX.

Friday, April 10, 2009

I was so excited about the “Dance Salad” I saw last night that I forgot to tell you that while I was getting ready at Sonia’s and Brian’s home to go to the show, Tara Alexander, Dr. Levin’s nurse, called me to give me the results of my second blood work. I have been taking Dylantin pills to avoid having seizures since December 9, 2007. The blood test shows that I have such a small level of that pill in my system that they concluded that I don’t need it anymore. In other words, the tumor had caused my seizure, and the surgery and chemo was enough to fight the problem. The doctor asked me to stop taking the pill. Thanks God, I am on my way to fully recover my old self without any drug. I did not take the pills last night and today I felt well even though Jaime drove me to Houston, we took the train and saw every one of the stations, and stopped to go to The Museum of Fine Arts. That museum is certainly not that big, but it has a huge collection of the most important painters you can imagine. I will have to go back and try to actually see each section in every detail.

However, and you have to keep in mind that this is my first day without anti-seizure medication, trying to see this two floor museum in four hours is an overwhelming experience. I was under the impression that someone wrote a list of who is who in the history of art, drilled some oil from here and there and bought whichever painting they found of the most well known painters still available. Almost everybody is there, but there is not a cohesive relation other than dates and periods. Indeed, I feel that some of the painters might regret seeing his/her paint on any museum’s wall. To give you an example, the collection includes a Goya, only one: a still life of several fish. The painting is cohesive with a Good Friday traditional meal. It had nothing to do with the very 18th.Century paintings around it. I guess someone might have offered to sell them several prints with witches, inquisitors and ugly things like that, but they preferred oil on canvas and the name of Goya instead because they did not match with their idea of the period. The Picassos I saw were almost undistinguishable from Gris or Braque, may be because of the color of the walls in which they were placed. It reminded me of some paintings I saw hanging on the walls of my neighbors’ home when I was living in Encantada: they always made sure that the paintings match with the sofa, the curtains and even the walls.

They are showing right now a beautiful collection of Hidden Treasures from the National Museum of Kabul, Afghanistan. They painted the walls to match with the sculptures and I think they might look better in Kabul, where they belong. I will have to visit another of my favorite museums to make sure that this impression is not the product of my lack of anti-seizure medication, because I surely felt that I was on the verge of having one. By the way, it is not true that all the painters were hanged on every wall. Velazquez, Murillo, el Greco, Balthus or Warhole were not in any of the walls of the museum, but “il fa presto”, Luca Giordano, was there twice. So, Carla might have been very happy to see an ancestor of the family in two paintings. He was called “il fa presto” for a reason.

Back in Porter, Texas, at Sonia’s and Brian’s house, we cooked a little something for dinner, did the laundry and reserved a taxi for tomorrow. We are leaving to PR tomorrow at 3:00 PM. I guess this is my last medical update ever. Since I refused taking linguistic therapy in PR, writing to you for one year and four months has being the best therapeutic way to recover words and memory. I am still struggling with words, but Jaime is already missing my brain tumor. I just remember what father Dario Carrero told me one year ago:

¡Ay quién pudiera encontrar a alguien
que haya olvidado las palabras,
para conversar con él! (Chuang-tzu)

Who could find somebody
who had forgotten all words,
to talk with. (Chuang-tzu)

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