They remind us of good diets, the bad taste of medicine and how prayerful we should be. When a malady calls, it's no time for half measures. Not when pathogens have infested my body and I can almost feel them doing cartwheels in me.
I feel doubly ill because I'm peculiarly hot in July weather until I get to the hospital waiting area and see faces of other would be patients. I sober up real quick. I feel like a sissy. I almost want to turn back and leave, go get some painkiller. Or head home to brew some ginger concoction and call it a day.
At length, I stifle the thought of retreating. Seeing as I'm already here, I might as well see a doctor. After jumping through procedural hoops, 30 minutes later I’m attended to by a doctor.
Thing is you never appreciate doctors enough until some disease gets the better of you. When you feel like some external force has annexed your body and is doing battle with your soul.
During such times, the mere sight of a doctor in his white garb and a stethoscope draped on a shoulder instills hope. You feel like you've halved your journey to recovery.
If you concentrate hard enough, you will feel the pathogens breaking rank, scampering, running for the hills.
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