I'm old, so this could be a long story. Suffice it to say, I'm old.
Freshman year of college. 1967 On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving I waited in the student lounge at the University of California Riverside for Bruce Raymond to meet me. He was coming up from Chapman College about 20 miles south. Plan for Thanksgiving break was to hitchhike up to San Francisco. Meeting time came and went. After a half hour I was beginning to get impatient. I’m sure he felt the same way, waiting for me about 100 yards away—in the other student lounge.
I’d been in the hospital since before Halloween. I was on Percodan, a powerful morphine-related pain med, and in sterile condition—had to be completely nude in my private room for the first two weeks. Why did this make me think of sex, to have attractive young nurses coming into my room when I was in both a clothing and consciousness-related compromised condition?