Posted: February 20, 2012 in Uncategorized

Don’t ask me why, but I’ve always enjoyed being at a hospital when I’m not well. Maybe I can see far enough ahead to know that my being there precipitates my getting better, that a crack team of skilled physicians who went to school for a long, long time will diagnose and treat what ails me, so sure, give me the thin cotton robe and the clammy leather sorta-bed and let’s get this show on the road.

Why, then, do I dislike it so when somebody I like has to go to the hospital instead of me? I guess because then it’s an issue outside of my control. I just have to be patient(nyuk nyuk) and wait for things to get better, without having any of the progressive catharsis of actually getting well. When you’re sick or hurt, you know you’re sick or hurt. Then you go see a doctor. That’s the first step. When you find out somebody close to you is in the hospital, it’s usually by the time they’re already there. You missed the whole first step. All you know is hey, I thought you were home watching TV and instead you’re lying in a hospital bed watching a tiny TV.

Wellness is too easy to take for granted some times.


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