A HAIRCUT AND A SHAVE

Dear Readers,

I began this blog in January, less than a month after my fall. For seven months I’ve been rambling about my condition, hoping to reach you somehow, to tell you what is like to live without the use of your arms or legs. It is no fun, to say the least.

As always, if you have the means, it would mean a great deal if you could become a paid subscriber, and keep this show on the road.

Your loving writer, Hanif.

Sachin takes me out of the hospital and into the filthy street, clogged with traffic. Outside, in my wheelchair, I feel frail and vulnerable. People are literally looking down on me. I cannot believe that they don’t know what is it like to wake up and find that you cannot use your hands; what that is like, what an ending that is.

I’m pushed into the barber shop where a friendly Syrian gives me a shave and a haircut.  Im shocked by my appearance, I look thin if not emaciated. My eyes and nose are bigger than before. But I have been successfully shitting after taking a barrage of laxatives and my appetite has returned. I had a halloumi sandwich for lunch, which is more than I’ve eaten since I’ve come back from Italy. I feel warmer. Things are looking up.