As y’all know by now (I think), when I was a kid I suffered a head injury. The prognosis for me then was quite a bit worse than anything you’ve heard in the news lately (and would be still were it to happen again today, even with the advances made since). Everybody called it a miracle, and people I didn’t know sent me holy water and holy items purchased on pilgrimages to Lourdes and other faraway locations.

Anyway, since then, I’ve recovered (mostly) just fine, a thousand times better than anybody could have hoped for. Maybe more than that. I’ve heard, I don’t know how many times, “it’s because you’re such a fighter.”

I always smile and thank them. Damn, though, do they give me a guilt complex. I know some don’t make it, people much better, stronger, “fightier” than me. I don’t beat myself up that I got lucky, but Christ, don’t go fucking praising me for it.

I know about the guilt complex. (How come you deserved to live, but SoSo Doe did not?)

No matter how many happy thoughts I have, or how hard I try, I can’t make my left knee tune in with the rest of my body. I can’t repair or replace missing or damaged organs or body parts. I can’t see without glasses. But I do stay positive, and my hope in medical science being able to help me in the near future keeps me smiling.

Yeah, it is all kinda random, but I’ll put having a “fighting spirit” before all those freaking cards you find in hospital wards thanking “God” for saving or healing someone or another…

Agreed.