Hospitals

I. Do. Not. Like. Hospitals.

Strange, I find myself sitting in one this very moment, watching a bad ABC Family movie, which isn't as bad as this hospital......

I dislike hospitals so much, I once quit a well paying job, teaching CPR and First Aid at a hospital. I can't breathe in a hospital environment. Ironic, I know.

It isn't just the germs, either. Though, once, when I dropped my pen on the floor, while teaching CPR at the hospital, I didn't bother picking it up. Yes, I abandoned my pen, clinging tightly to my contamination fears.

But I digress. The real reason I don't care for hospitals is, when I was 11 years old, my Nana suffered a stroke at home, was taken to the hospital by ambulance, and died, without ever regaining consciousness.

I never got to say goodbye to her. But she didn't suffer. She went fast. Those were the words I over head the grown ups using. Those were the words I adopted to comfort myself.

I find it strange, even though I'm aware of the cause of my issue, that I can't just get over it. I still have to coach myself, "to breathe," when I walk through any hospital door.

Yet, here I sit, in the hospital. Actually I'm doing okay. I'm not even having a panic attack. And even better, my Mom had an angiogram, and she didn't require a stint. An artery only requires a stint when it is at least 70% blocked. Her artery is only 40% blocked, which is treated with medication, PROPER DIET AND EXERCISE.

PROPER. DIET. AND EXERCISE.

I'm thinking of dragging her to the beach with me everyday. While I surf, she can walk.