So there I was, shoeless, in the middle of the hospital -- asking the wheelchair-pusher, "Why don't we just take a spontaneous visit to the morgue?"
Not exactly what I had in mind for my 21st birthday.
Nope. My girlfriends and I were supposed to hang out and play the Rubix Cube Game. (You know -- the one where everyone dresses in rubix cube colors. Then they have to swap clothes until each person is wearing only ONE color. So people are fitting into every size of clothes imaginable...)
I think my friends paid the doctor to hospitalize me.
Multiple Sclerosis, he said. I needed an MRI to see if it was true.
So there I was, shoeless, being pushed by the wheelchair-pusher. Thankfully he didn't take me up on the morgue idea. But it was an interesting night... flat-out in the hospital bed... waiting for the phone to ring and my doctor to share the news.
Life felt a lot like a Rubix Cube.
I never could get those things to line up. I spent hours as a kid, turning the cubes, begging providence, removing stickers. When all else fails, cheat.
But what do you do when there's in no cheating for LIFE? What to do when circumstances won't line up?
Be still and know that I am God...
It turned out to be the shingles. (I know, right? Isn't that an old-people's thing? Apparently my body thought my birthday was a little more than 21...)
To say I was relieved would be an understatement. I felt like I had my life back.
But I still had big questions. Like, what did the morgue really look like? Would I ever legally conquer the rubix cube?
And lastly, but most importantly, what were my friends going to look like dressed in rubix cube colors?
BJ got the first sentence idea for this post from Christiana at Penciled Whimsies. This is a true story.
Question for 2Day: How's your rubix cube treatin' ya?