I hate hospitals.
Hate may not be a strong enough word. Ever since my cousin died unexpectedly, I can’t think of going into a hospital without anxiety kicking in. The only time the nausea, panic, and extreme sadness didn’t overwhelm me was when I went to the hospital to meet my first nephew.
Last weekend, two of my uncles were in a bad motorcycle accident in easternen Washington. They were both airlifted from the scene; one to a hospital in eastern Washington, the other to Harborview in Seattle. Both are alive and recovering better than expected, but they are not in good shape. One is in critical condition, the other is in serious condition.
I’ve wanted to go visit both, but that anxiety has kicked in every time I think about it.
Yesterday I decided it was time. I made arrangements to meet my sister (any minute now) and we are going together.
Hopefully she will be able to make the day trip to visit the other uncle with me thisweekend. I want to pretend that her strength is mine.
Please keep thinking happy thoughts (or prayers if that is more your thing). Good vibes are always helpful.