Jeff Weddle | @anti_itcher
“Are you OK?” the nurse asked me. “Here, take a seat, we’ll be right with you.” She sat me down in a chair and ran off. Soon she came back. “Here, hold this,” she said pressing a towel and ice pack to my forehead. “Put your head down and breathe deep.”
I sat in the chair getting my bearings and waited for the room to stop spinning. She hovered around me making sure I didn’t faint. “Are you OK? You’re all white and sweaty?”
“I. I’m. I’ll be fine.” She didn’t believe me, so she continued to hover and give me kind nursely advice.
“Just take it easy,” she said patting my shoulder consolingly.
“You all right man?” asked the guy lying in the hospital bed covered with fresh burn scars over a quarter of his body. No, I was not the sick guy here; I was merely doing my pastoral duty of hospital visitation and had attracted medical attention for my wimpiness.
“Oh man, I don’t know. I hope I pull through this OK,” I joked.
“Yeah, I was a little concerned for you,” he said with some mockery.
Ah yes, this was not the first and will not be the last time I get sick visiting people in a hospital. I don’t know what it is, the smell, the sights, the sounds, or what, but I get physically ill in hospitals.