Talk about a novel recovery.
Jay McInerney — the literary enfant terrible and chronicler of ’80s Yuppie excess, who later became Town & Country’s wine critic and a member of America’s foremost families himself — has just polished off his latest novel while dramatically recuperating from emergency brain surgery.
In a recent letter to friends, the “Bright Lights, Big City” author, 69, detailed a harrowing bloody accident at home, followed by a series of medical — and culinary — adventures in NYC that could be straight out of one of his novels.
He was even called urgently on his way to a hard-to-get dinner reservation in Soho by the hospital for fear he might “keel over” at the meal — and he’s been convalescing with take-out provided by some of the world’s top chefs.
Apparently it all started the night of Dec. 20, McInerney told pals in an email obtained by Pvnew, when he was solo at his Manhattan pad.
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The author had a dizzy spell and fell, only to wake up the next morning to find “blood all over the bedroom, the bathroom, the hallway, the bed and the pillow.”
As a result, the writer added, “Eventually had to explain to the cleaning lady I hadn’t murdered anyone and give her a bonus.”
When McInerney ultimately visited his physician: “We discovered a four inch gash in the back of my head.”
“A CAT scan eventually revealed two Subdural hematomas inside my skull,” he wrote. “I was pretty dizzy and my vision was blurry and sometimes doubled and the next few weeks are a little vague. So I apologize if I kind of disappeared during recent weeks. Email got ignored. I tried to make lists but it didn’t really help. I forgot to look at the lists. And I took a lot of naps, a talent I never really possessed before.”
He had a “two hour brain procedure” as a result.
But after that, “My CAT scan to check on the procedure two weeks later wasn’t too good,” recalls McInerney in his missive. “I was just on my way out to dinner last Monday night when I got a call from the hospital insisting that I go to the emergency room immediately. Naturally, I said, ‘Well, can’t I go to dinner first?'”
When McInerney subsequently had surgery, he told pals he heard his sawbones “tell the resident, with appropriate Surgeon cockiness, ‘Jay McInerney is not going to die on my watch.'”
After the procedure, he ended up with, “two holes in my skull and lots of staples. Happily almost all my hair seems intact, if not entirely clean.”
McInerney’s wife, Anne Hearst, was by his side and arranged for “my eventual transfer to a nice suite at the Mark Hotel which is where I have been recovering. I still have a small hematoma on the left side, but with luck that one will disappear. Definitely don’t want to experience another round of this s–t,” he wrote.
Luckily, once again, “[Les Trois Chevaux chef] Angie Mar sent some delicious Foie gras soup and pheasant so I am luxuriously fed if somewhat skinnier — the pants I brought Monday were insanely loose by Saturday. Not a diet plan I would recommend.”
While McInerney swore to pals, “I will try to act like a normal convalescent for a while. Can’t promise that will last for too long” in the letter, he nevertheless told us when reached for comment on Tuesday that he’s “been writing like a fiend,” and, “actually finished a novel a few days ago.”
Recuperating McInerney also told his friends in the letter, “thanks so much for your kind words and thoughts. Sorry for my lapses of the last couple of months. As for previous months and years, harder to explain.”
His books also include “Brightness Falls,” “Bright, Precious Days,” The Last of the Savages” and “The Last Bachelor,” among others.
