Scrambled Eggs - Excerpt
Marilyn A. Gelman

Making a Meat Loaf

1998

Pre-preparation

As a passenger in a car that gets hit, exacerbate injuries from four years ago, add new ones; wait six months; try to cook again.

Part One: Salivate

1. Do not make any telephone calls or write anything demanding of mental attention, or bend or stretch, in order to maintain optimal functioning.

2. Have ready in advance: 2 lbs. chopped meat, 1 chopped onion, already-opened jar of marinara sauce.

Part Two: Machinate

1. Move stuff away from oven door; reach up to get matches; reach down to light oven.

2. Move portable dishwasher away from pantry door because first glance on shelf did not reveal meat-loaf pan that was in clear, easily accessible location.

3. Bend for pan; reach for oatmeal; replace dishwasher.

4. Bend for marinara sauce in refrigerator; reach for chopped onions; swivel for marinara sauce.

5. Reach for bowl in Hoosier cabinet.

6. The world is spinning already.

Part Three: Activate

1. Break and mix up egg; add oatmeal and marinara sauce. Mix. Get dizzy and nauseous.

2. Add chopped meat; mix with other ingredients; find another, larger fork because there is too much action for so little mixing.

3. Close eyes while working; right shoulder feels funny and cen-ter of back of neck hurts. Keep mixing.

4. Pour meat-loaf into pan and shape with two forks. Pour some marinara sauce over top from jar that is now only one-third full. But it feels very heavy. Smooth sauce over top of meat-loaf carefully because fork is hard to keep a grip on; muscles lack coordination.

5. Reach into bottom of refrigerator for sweet potatoes since they are known to be in refrigerator, having been placed there last night in a convenient location for today, now completely forgotten. Difficult to focus on task at hand; wash sweet potatoes. If phone were to ring now, answering machine would do all the work because you do not think your lips would work the words correctly.

6. Carry oh-so-heavy meat-loaf pan to oven and sweet potatoes. Shelf is up a rung too high. You are too uncoordinated now to move it; you would only get hurt or drop something or react poorly to an emergency.

Part Four: Ruminate

You are astonished at how much functionality you have lost. You have pain across the shoulder blades and in the back of the neck; your vision has become less & cooperative (? you can't think of the word); your head is spinning; feels like your fingers are swollen; your tongue feels swollen; your left ear feels funny on the outside (like it is swelling). Even sitting still with your eyes closed, you are overwhelmed by sensory overload. It is a terrible struggle to type this; you have made and corrected many typos; you have changed many words because you cannot think of the right ones, and you fear falling off the chair. You don't want to lie down now, but you had better. And you bet the room will spin while you are lying in bed, and you will see light flash-ing on and off within your closed eyelids, and you hope no one you need to speak to telephones you today because you will not be able to do whatever it is you would have had to do if they called (this whole phrase is unnecessary, but you are unable to find a word to follow "able to.") Your back and your arms hurt, and you are yawning.

So much for today. It is over as far as you are concerned.

Marilyn A. Gelman's work has appeared in the New York Times, Modern Romances and Footwork: The Paterson Literary Review. Before a BMW hit her Chevrolet, she was a graduate student, wrote software, folk-danced, took guitar lessons, attended Mensa events and indulged her great curiousity about everything.