I was just a part of the well-trained team of medical professionals who cheated a massive blood clot of its goal at a most inconvenient time of night. I was blessed to be part of a team that sent a man whom to his family for the holiday.
I may be having an identity crisis. But as I listen to the suffering of the wide world, I realize how blessed I am. I’m not in the hospital for a self-inflicted wound. My house didn’t just burn down. My husband didn’t just leave me. I didn’t fall and break a bone and lay on the floor for 18 hours before someone found me.
“Can I practice starting an IV on you tonight?” I text Marnell the other day. I think his response is best shown in picture form. …