As I type this I am home and on the road to recovery. The end of 2024 and start of 2025 had been one long sequence of pain and misery without reason. One last Hail Mary round of testing finally led to a diagnosis and an identified cure. Predictably, that solution will be long in coming and had to be started in the confines of a hospital stay. At this rate it will not end until late February at the earliest, deeper in the spring at worst. But I’m alive. Gratefully alive. The odds of my dying were, realistically, exceedingly small, but even the briefest brushes with mortality leaves a scar. That it could be entertained at all is something I’ll grapple with for a long time, I imagine.

This was a novel experience. Two months ago the functioning of the healthcare system resided beyond comprehension. An annual physical sufficed for whatever needed looking after. Even something as simple as filling a prescription was a complete mystery. How do they know what to fill? Who calls who? How do they know who to hand it over to? An extremely charmed life is one where ignorance of hospitalization is bliss.

That period of my life has come to an end. No need to shed a tear for me, though. I got off easy and learned a lot along the way. Hospital staff – from nurses to transport, doctors to cleaners – care. MDs don’t always see eye to eye, but consensus forms eventually. Blood draws hurt. Maintaining the innate human nobility of the sick is second only to keeping them alive. The cafeteria food can be better than expected. Boredom is rampant. Nobody will stop you from wandering the halls as long as you’re wearing a gown. Oxycodone works. There isn’t nearly enough appreciation for the marvels of medicine.

My heart goes out to all those fighting battles much more fraught than my own. The alienation of a medical crisis cannot really be solved for, even in the best care. Of all the challenges in overcoming a diagnosis, retaining your humanity may be most difficult. I came out the other side of my experience intact thanks to my wife, family, friends, and caregivers. Not everyone gets to be so lucky.