If we openly chronically document our accomplishments, why not do the same for our tragedies?
Ask me what I did for a Spring Break. ..go on ask me? Anybody? Anybody? Ok, here we go.I spent the weekend in 1 of Amarillo, TX ‘s two glorious medical resorts in a beautiful spacious room with a bathroom the size of a handicapped toilet stall and a window overlooking the Amarillo skyline.
The environment was sterile and updated; I loved how comfortable the bed was,the sofa pulled out to make anothet bed which was quite convenient for my sister to stay with me and a recliner with wheels for important people or visitors to sit and discuss vital information.
The staff was beautiful and greeted me with a smile every hour on the hour which prevented me from getting a good night sleep and it was even better how polite they were when sticking me with a needle while giving me mediocre service.
But of course I’m talking about a hospital. Being in the hospital for me is like being in a vacation resort without tipping the service and a swimming pool.In and out of hospitals is just part of life. Like my disability, it’s part of life. I didn’t plan on being in the hospital for Spring Break it just happened. I was just going to sleep, clean and may be do a little shopping but unfortunately it didn’t happen that way. I had to be admitted as an emergency case because of hydronephritis (one kidney becomes swollen due to failure of normal drainage from the kidney to the bladder) which could have lead to renal failure. My kidneys have never gotten this bad before especially with all the stuff I put them through, It’s a miracle I’m not on dialysis yet. With all the poking, proding and medicine I was given I started looking and feeling like a drug addict. I feel a lot better now that I know why I hadn’t been very comfortable the past few months. This little ordeal has taught me a lesson or two. Take better care of my kidneys, go to the bathroom when I have the urge and now be more appreciative of my family because if it wasn’t for them I probably would’ve gotten worse.
I’ve had these violent dreams about physically hurting someone for the past week but last night was the worst because I dreamt I committed murder and I had no remorse for doing it. Which means I may have a lot of repressed anger, aggression and hatred,but against who? I guess that means I need to talk to somebody.
What is it about love that makes us so stupid?