Inexplicably, at least to me, was the fact that while the rooms were kept at normal temperature, the corridors were freezing. I was glad I had brought along my bathrobe; otherwise I would very likely have contracted pneumonia during one of my health-restoring walks.
On one walk, I noticed an attractive, female hospital worker pushing a gurney, wearing a scarf wrapped around her head. I thought that was extreme and I unsolicitedly said so:
“It’s not that cold,” I “cleverly” remarked.
The woman looked at me strangely.
And then she moved on.
After which, it came to me. The female hospital worker wasn’t cold. She was Muslim.
It was instructive to know that Open-heart Surgery hadn’t robbed me of my ability to embarrass myself in front of strangers.
He says he plans two more installments on his illness: "After that, I’ll return my focus to what really matters. Writing about half-hour comedy."