There must be a name that psychologists give to this instinct that I'm going to describe. You know you have a fear, or hope, but you don't want to frame it in words lest you jinx it. Like saying it aloud gives it a reality that then awakens the evil prankster in Murphy or Gabriel or whoever it is that drives fate with a sense of humor. I know the feeling is irrational, so I'm going to say this loud. I don't want to visit hospitals anymore.
It all began with that well-documented completely unsavory trip to the hospital for my medical test. And now it seems I keep having reasons to go there over and over again. Last week, A had to spend a night because she had an attack of Hyperventilation Syndrome. The knowledge that I was the cause was especially onerous. Last night S-man occupied a bed at the hospital because the doctor suspected Typhoid. The dude is an ambassador of sorts for all things dionysian. To watch him lie wistfully there was very skippable. Bounce back bro.
Health to all. Amen.