"ambulance in the rearview mirror"

As I entered his hospital room, I saw loud crying than laughing, and then praise to the Lord. The priest was there and they were praying. I was asked to join.

He was admitted with a heart attack while he was shopping in a mall. Luckily he was saved and now recovering. 

He told me that he was saved by the power of prayer. Someone prayed as they saw his ambulance in their rearview mirror while pulling over the car to have healing receive him at the hospital by the grace of God.

He told me that day his own son's prayers saved his life as he was the driver of that car who saw his ambulance in the rearview mirror.

To some, pulling over for an ambulance is just an act, as this is a law. 

Others, pull over and send a prayer in motion; those are the ones who make a difference not known to many.

"anyone can be a nuerosurgeon"

He was recovering from his surgery, anal fissure with significant pelvic pain, He described that as a constant burning sensation in his privates, and a feeling of a hot iron rod inside. His descriptions made me shiver in my spine. Then he said, anyone can be a neurosurgeon as his pain was not well treated but the operation was done well as he was told by his surgeon.

I saw pain everywhere. The pain which was oozing from his wound, and the pain which was not measurable on the pain scale of zero-ten.

The current atmosphere of judgments upon people who use narcotics for dependency and those who need it for post-operative care has become a gray area. In the grand scheme of control, everyone suffers. There is room for compassion but it is a slippery slope.

To some becoming a neurosurgeon is the achievement of one's lifetime. No doubt they have hard-earned skills but some gain those at a cost; while perfecting a skill ignoring that a beautiful well-healed wound is still a wound, not a medal and the bearer should be made comfortable at its best. 

Others strive to speak up and look outside the box; tools to heal and control pain. They are the ones who remind us that not anyone can be a neurosurgeon.

"two percent milk"

As I walked into his room, I heard his loud voice accusing the nurse that she wanted to kill him. He continued, the nurse did not care about his health and how serious it was to keep his cholesterol down to keep his heart healthy. He was upset about finding whole milk instead of 2% Milk on his breakfast tray.

I thought he was right so I told him. But I also told him that to be right one doesn't have to be impolite and loud. He agreed and the nurse smiled.

He was admitted with endocarditis affecting a  young heart abused by intravenous recreational drugs. There was a long history of self experimentations, denials, and justifications. There were life trials and legal judgments and the ultimate damage to the earthly body with a weak heart. He wanted to survive, and  I saw his struggle to hold on; he was trying to be alive by doing the right thing. Two percent milk was his water of life at the moment.

To some, a healthy lifestyle is not a choice but the order of the day. Their life may seem dry to those who judge them, those who use and abuse their bodies. To some, extra cheese pizza with a diet soda keeps all stakeholders happy. The journey of a man from a dependency on intravenous drugs to fighting for two percent milk may have its own tale: fear, regret, anger, hope.