So the hospital goes like this:

Enter at the dungeons first—the ER. The flow is slow and you move from room to room. It’s dirty and ragged. If a rat ran across the floor I’d just shrug and say, yes, that makes sense.

Above the dungeon are, “the rooms”. After 8 hours I was given a room on the top floor. Everyone is bouncing on clouds. The weight is lifted. It’s clean and for it’s purpose…comfortable. The nurses ignore you as they casually gather. I can hear the hiss of pop-cans being opened.

The basement. The Wonderland. The loonies reside here. The ones with the skill to operate. You might think, hmm shouldn’t the dungeon be the lowest level? No, the upside-down world is lowest. Clean with bright lights, gloved hands, and masks. They speak encouraging words while chatting away with each other about the nonsensical.

Three distinct layers to a hospital. Three distinct casts of characters. One really no “better” than the other.

But I survived. I’ve got a stent in my left ureter. Another surgery is needed. Getting a face-to-face with the surgeon is damn near impossible. The pain is controlled but I’m also constantly terrified of its return. At the end of it, my brain is kind of mashed potatoes.

I have a few wonderful people to get me through. And that is what a hospital is.

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