Back in the hospital
My father is still in the hospital tonight, and I could not be more proud of him.
This is complicated. And unpleasant. And possibly upsetting. So skip over this if it's going to bother you. I'll not be offended. But, you should probably read on. If understanding why I find bravery instead of shame in the way my father ended up in the hospital this time is something that you don't want to read, it probably says more about you than about me, anyway.
I'm not mad at him. I'm not disappointed in him. This is *not* a moment of which to be ashamed. I am proud of him. I told him so this afternoon. He seemed touched by this, in between ordering four glasses of water "to help him get through the night" and demanding they replace the hospital with holograms like in the Star Trek.
To endeavor to better ones self is an act that should always be lauded. And this time, for Melvin, it especially so, because it is a self-selected action that put him in the ICU. This time, it was not the upcoming shutdown of his vital organs that brought him here. This time, it was his mind's rejection of his body's dependency that brought him here. This time he is not a man being asked to live in spite of his mind's desire to stay sick-- he is a man who asks to live in spite of his body's desire to stay stick.
This one will stick. Because it is an act of deliberate will to rage against the poisons that numb the hurting. It is an endeavor to better one's self. And it should be lauded-- not shamed.
He is a warrior in a hospital bed. Not a victim of dependency. Not this time.
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