I should’ve been in the hospital all last week. That’s the honest truth and that’s what I told my Bishop (and close friend) yesterday at Sacrament meeting when he checked in with me. “Do you need to go back?” he asked, looking me in the eye. He knew how miserable I was in there, but also that I needed to be there for my well-being. I told him that I really didn’t want to go back. ” Well, you know if you need to. You be good, okay? Is there anything we can do?” I told hi just to be my friend. He smiled and said, “Well, that’s a given. You be good. We love you.” Yesterday was a hard day. I wasn’t sure where I was going mentally or emotionally. I’m still reeling from all the loss — sudden loss — that I’ve been faced with in the last two weeks, and that on top of the losses I’ve felt in the past year. All so painful. Last night, a lady I know ended up in the hospital and is still there today being evaluated. I just found out this morning that a friend of mine has to have her left lung removed due to cancer. She’s a single mother of a 4-year-old. I want to just scream, “What the hell is going on?!” And that expression wouldn’t be exclusively about my pain. It would be for those undergoing the surgeries and the treatments and the hardships and the losses and the pain — everyone going through that, mentally or physically or spiritually. Everybody has their story. Everyone has their limits, their strengths, their breaking points… So many just hanging on by a fine thread of spider silk dangling in a hurricane-force wind of life, yet we somehow persevere. We somehow make it through. We are amazing creatures, and we can be amazing to each other. We need to be amazing to each other. It’s a matter of survival.
Content Rating PG, for the most part
I try to keep the content of my posts in the PG range (meaning that maybe your 13-year-old should not read it... Just kidding!) - you know, something I could get away with tastefully in the town square without getting lynched, tarred-and-feathered, or hung (and something my mother would NOT wash my mouth out with soap for). As far as what age you have to be to understand some of the subtleties of my humor in writing and/or speaking, well... That may vary. A lot.