I’m spending my next few days in the hospital, and it’s been a lot already. Don’t worry; my problems are orthopedic. Anyway, there’s a rhythm to hospital life that I don’t think exists anywhere else. Maybe prison is the same way, in the sense that you are not totally in charge of your life. Someone says, “You must do this,” and you do it. One of the irritating and possibly painful aspects of it is the frequent blood draws. Every now and again, if you go to your doctor in the course of ordinary life, she may request this. But in a hospital, it’s much more frequent. I have admired some recent roommates, in their chutzpah to refuse medications and blood draws. It’s all technically voluntary, but personally, if a doctor who seems competent asks me for blood, or to take a drug for my well-being, it’s not proud hero-guy time. I beg your indulgence if it’s too fast a transition, but Jesus didn’t refuse any of the humiliation and violence that culminated in the Cross. He did it all willin...
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