I have spent the last 67 and half years trying my utmost to stay out of hospitals. I was born in an attic 4 floors up (home/attic births were all the rage in 1950) and apart from visiting people, I have been able to escape the hospital’s welcome all these years. However, all being well, that record will finish next week. I say “all being well” because, ironically, one needs to be healthy to have a ‘procedure’.
Last year I had an ultrasound and it was discovered that I was pregnant … with bouncing baby(or not so baby) gallstones.
So there are a couple of things for me to reflect on. One has been the rare privilege of not having had to use these facilities up to now when many, from a young age, have known hospital as a second home. I need to thank God for that. Another is that I live in a country that when it is needed these facilities are available. I or my family do not live in Syria where they become a special target for the enemy.
There is another reflection. I don’t like drunkenness or liked things like hypnotism as I argued that it was a poor choice as a Christian to have one’s body under the control of another person or substance. Next week I will be put under so someone else and can cut into me. What do I think about that? The way my gut feels at present it is cheering, “Bring it on!”