While walking sluggishly around the callroom yesterday has majorly hit my forehead against the low-beamed cement entrance. I know I am given to using MILLIONS of exaggerations, but let me tell you without exaggeration or histrionics that as I heard the crack of my skull I had a very lucid vision of a very long, golden, radiant flight of stairs surrounded by angels, and at the end, open gates letting out more beams of light, telling me that it's all right, Will, it's all right, you're dead, but it's all right. Obviously I'm trying to stretch out one pointless non-experience into a blog entry, but indeed I got very dizzy for a few seconds and imagined a small vessel in my head leaking out blood. I immediately consulted my neurologist friend Neurologist Shipper Jack Knight, and she performed complicated, expensive tests on me (pronator drift). In the end her diagnosis: "Wala yan," she said.
I am blogging about this during my 24-hour observation period so that if anyone finds me unconscious, or let's say, dead, you would all know what caused the malady and not perform other tests. I know you all love writing out long diagnoses, but I don't want to see any rule out cerebral gonorrhea or something fancy in there.