It isn't the bookshelves fault, the assemblers didn't take the time to read and then understand, the instructions. There are fronts, backs, tops and bottoms, and when placed properly, the fit is perfect. Those shelves mock me, reminding me of what is undone, and needs to be remedied. Alas, the task seems so daunting, with all of those oddly shaped plastic screws nestled tightly in the boards, that only seem to release when twisted hard enough to break 'em out: rendering them useless for the rebuild.
Doctors, dear reader, are now rendered useless, for the rebuilt. You could not possibility have thought that I was going to talk endlessly about my pathetic unfinished shelves, without calling forth a metaphor for us to look at together, could you?
Doctors stopped reading human instruction manuals long ago. Doctors stopped listening to patients in favour of ghost writer directives, that eliminate step-by-step attentive care, for the individuals in front of them. A prescription was written en masse, and everyone was to take the invisible underwriters magical medicine, including the physicians that were bewitched by their own god like abilities to prevent a made up disease from infecting people that were not susceptible to "catching it", because again, it was make believe, made up.
They cannot fix what they broke. They cannot repair the damage done. They can only do what they have been taught and told to do: give more deadly medicine, tell the patient it is working, then inform them that the illness was cured by the drugs, and when the patient becomes ill again (they were ill, recall, during the remediation process too, and before of course, meaning it never went away), give them the sad sad news, that death is pending, and next tell them this: We will make you as comfortable as possible as you slip away ... in fact, you can pick the date of your demise, and we will help you with that too. It's an option; totally up to you.
I have a good mind to call Ikea and tell them that their shelves are stupid, and I want my money back. I wonder if the sick and dying feel similarly? Do you want your tax payers dollars back, dear reader? Do you want the health care system to recompense you for stealing your wellness? I will say this, that I have put things together before with less trouble then the Ikea shelves gave me; but still, there was something in my haphazard approach to building, that left much to be desired, thus the end results, were how shall I say it, miserable. I certainly cannot in good conscience demand my money back, and those that trusted their doctors beyond what is reasonable, certainly cannot ask them for recompense. There was a partnering prior to the sickness that looked something like this: I am sick, I go to my doctor, or a doctor, looking for a cure, a fix, a solution. Doctor, as professional, has heard it all before, and says, Do this, take that, and come back and see me in a week, or two weeks, or sometime in the near future.
Trusting others by getting to know them, used to take time. Not long ago, in our mutual recent past, all caution was thrown, leaf like, to the wind. I write as a warning, to all that read this: retrieve your independent thinking; chase that leaf of questioning until you are confident. Become wary, watchful, attentive, get back that stranger danger instinct that served you well as a child. I find it fascinating that each person needs to be "assigned" a family physician. I go to walk-in-clinics when necessary, for myself and others, and tell the doctor what I/we need, not the other way round. They work for us, so why, oh why, does it feel as though we must acquiesce to their strong suggestions?
My shelves will get fixed or thrown out. Your health will be restored, or you will perish. I know I need help with the shelves, and ultimately a kind friend will assist and we will reassemble them together, or chuck the project. Do you precious person, know Whom it is, that will help you?
If the doctors broke you, and broke themselves too, might I suggest that you take a close look at your mortality, and go directly to the Great Physician. It may be too late for your body to be healed (he is capable of healing you and will if it is in his plan, while at the very same time, we all must accept that we are beings unto death), but your soul is invaluable, and soul sickness is the most grievous sickness to suffer.
Trust your health and spirit care to the One that made you, dear reader ... not mere humans that care not one bit for your salvation. If you have put your trust in men rather than in God, you have some repenting to do. King David was soul sick when he wrote this Psalm 41:4:
I said, LORD, be merciful unto me: heal my soul; for I have sinned against thee.
We all sin, but not everyone admits to sinning or wants to cut it out, and yet that is precisely what makes us mentally, spiritually, and physically sick. You get to decide what to do about your state of un-wellness ... don't let anyone boss you around. I pray you well, through Christ our LORD, Amen.
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