Being confined to the sick ward a.k.a. my 30th floor apartment has given me a interesting, albeit mildly - no significantly - claustrophobic view of the city. I can look outside my window and see the harbor - ferries coming and going, tugboats and large boats navigating the waters and the changing shapes of the ice. I can spy on our neighbors in the Ritz, though their lives seem to consist mostly of darkened windows and empty rooms. But, on interesting days, I've seen groups sit down for meals - are they friends, co-workers - my view from the window offers no clues, but my mind can concoct endless stories. My view of people outside is limited, an occasional couple scurrying through the park, the distant sound of a car if I listen closely - the city seems somewhat of a foreign place. My ventures out have been few – going down to check the mail has brought conversation with neighbors and the sight of busy people, bundled from the cold, rushing into the elevators. The post office - mailing a necessary letter - was crowded, hurried. The pharmacy - buying medicine and signing up for a bonus card. 1 West Street, my new address on the form. Most of my life consists of the phone and the television. Conversations with worried parents upstate, a worried boyfriend in Oklahoma, friends wondering why I haven't called. More television shows then I can to remember - who thinks of these things?
My major venture out was to the emergency room, two of them in fact. There you see a side of New York that I don't imagine you see anywhere else. There are the homeless patients, the ones who the nurses know by name because the ER is warmer than the street and they come everyday. There are those who don't speak English, and shake in pain while the doctors try to figure out what is wrong. I saw manic-depressives, men in handcuffs escorted by police officers, and the rest of us, bound together by some sense of normalcy that exchange looks and stares at the chaos and drama that happens around us. We feel out of place I think, this New York is not our home.
