I made it through the lab work yesterday (thanks to prayer, God's faithfulness, Angie's hand holding and a kind and gentle medical professional). It wasn't fun, but was necessary.
I have had the opportunity to visit several hospitals over the last few years and I have just started to notice something.
In the lobbies, hallways and other areas, there are often pictures and plaques showing the history of the hospital.
This Hospital was founded by
Mr. and Mrs. Deeppockets in 1913,
Mr. and Mrs. Deeppockets in 1913,
in memory of their kitten, Fluffy.
That's nice and all. But then there's the cabinets full of surgical instruments that date from the time of the Inquisition with all the (in)appropriate info on them.
That's nice and all. But then there's the cabinets full of surgical instruments that date from the time of the Inquisition with all the (in)appropriate info on them.
This rusty saw was used to remove the leg of patients when they came to have an ingrown toenail removed. It used to take 13 nurses to sit on a patient because sedatives had not yet been invented.
Now, really. Who needs to see that sort of stuff? Have a special room (broom closet) devoted to historical medical instruments, with a big warning sign that says:
Enter at your own risk. There are nightmares inside.So, tomorrow I head in. I know that it will be alright. I know that God is with me. I know that I am loved. I also know that I don't look forward to it.