For the record, I hate hospitals.
I respect them — I’ve even used their services once. Almost two decades ago, actually. Left my gallbladder in one.
But I still hate them. The silence and the equipment and what it all means…
…so going to visit at one tonight stirred up all kinds of emotions, and not just hate.
Concern for my friends who were there as well.
Anger at the randomness of the universe.
And, oddly, some happiness that we could at least be there. Maybe there’s not a lot we could do, but there is some power in just being in the same place at the same time with people who are hurting in the same way.
On the whole, I’d rather have had no reason to be there — yet once I was asked to be there, there’s no place else I should have been, or would have wanted to be.
But I still hate hospitals. And I want my friend out of there, healthy, and back with us… as soon as possible.
Get well soon, Zach. I miss you. We all do.