When conversation turns to the spirit realm, I normally feel excluded, because I have nothing to contribute. Not any more. Not after a recent trip to the hospital
I am sitting in my office, reading an information sheet titled Understanding Flexible Sigmoidoscopy. Although I’ve read it twice already, I keep skipping sections that I think won’t appeal to me. I’ve still managed to grasp its underlying message, which is: “You haven’t had a camera up your arse until you’ve had our camera up your arse.”
A week later, I find myself in a hospital examination room. A nurse explains the entire procedure in a manner that leaves me unable to skip the bits that don’t appeal to me.
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