One Sharp Injection of Optimism, Please

Okay, I will admit it: sometimes, I can be a bit of a, well, pessimist. I guess that’s the beauty of being interested in journalism: always looking at both sides of the coin and gathering perspectives from every angle. I’ve hit more snags in this post-op recovery than I can count, one of which landed me an all-inclusive, insurance-paid vacation to the hospital for a small but ever-so-stealthy blood clot in my leg. So this leads me to the title of this entry: bring on the optimism. But where has my mind been this whole time? Staring angrily at that half empty glass.

Spirituality is a pretty interesting thing. I grew up in a household that encouraged spirituality but did not force-feed its teachings. My grandfather is a very well-known deacon around my hometown and especially in my parish, and I grew up living the “proper” parishioner’s to-do list: baptism, communion, confirmation, and yes, somewhere in the distant future the site of my fairytale wedding where John Mayer will sing me down the aisle. Don’t worry, it’s gonna happen.

So while in the hospital, my grandfather came just after dawn to keep me company before my twice daily abdomen injections and phone-order breakfast. Our conversations are always entertaining, and my grandfather is truly a gem. He always greets me with a compliment (“Oh Danielly Belly, you just get more and more beautiful every time I see you!” “Aw Gramps, see, I tried this new look today called “hospital hair”, I think it’s really working for me”). The man really knows how to flatter a girl! Our conversations always make me smile and feel SO great. During my second morning in my penthouse suite of 404 South, he stuck around while a hematologist came to see me, and warily watched him examine me. I guess old nursing habits die hard, Gramps.

It’s experiences like this that really help me to gain a thirst for the happiness that surrounds me. I know that my disposition has been less than sunny these past two weeks or so, but I think it’s time that I leave those negative thoughts floating away with the dark clouds that have crowded my bedside window. As I get ready to remove my headphones, return my laptop to my bedside table, and pull up the blankets over my cold skin, I can’t help but notice my mouth feels a bit dry.

I’ve got a glass of water on my table, and I’m happy to see that it’s half full.

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