I am in the hospital. My roommate thinks there are small children she doesn't know running all over the room. I, for one, don't believe it. The nurse apologizes to me for her outbursts - she has to shoo the invisible little children away every now and then -- but so far it's been entertaining.
I am a cardiac catheterization veteran now - this was my fourth one. And an angioplasty veteran, as well - tomorrow's will be my third, although it will be in a new artery. It was not my plan to be here tonight -- I was going to a meeting at the church across the street, held in the delectable context of a potluck supper. Foodwise, I have definitely gotten the short end of the stick: those people can cook.
I didn't want to come here. My daughter made me call my doctor - I wasn't going to call. I wasn't going to come right away -- my other daughter called and said she was coming right over and that I should be ready to go when she got there. As they used to know when "no" was not an option, I know that tone in their voices now. Resistance is futile.
I didn't think anything was wrong, and I was wrong. This could have been very serious, and now it will be a brief recovery and then life will go one as before, thanks to my girls. If I had had my way, I might have died.
You think you know your body. But another head is a good thing, sometimes, because you can talk yourself into believing that what you want to be true is actually a fact. I can, anyway; I'm a good talker.
So good night. No eMo tomorrow, I think, unless I awaken with more energy than I expect. To everyone here, and in every hospital everywhere-- patients, staff, visitors -- God's healing blessing and sweet rest.