I was not looking my best as a few visitors made their way
to my hospital room on Tuesday afternoon.
I hadn’t remembered that the doctor instructed me to ASK for painkillers
after surgery, and I was simply waiting for the nurses to keep me comfortable.
Not a good move.
When things were finally right with the world (and the
patient was medicated properly) a slow stream of friends appeared to confirm
that I was still among the living.
My small room was filled with fellow teachers, friends, my
sister and an incredibly tall and handsome Mr. Darcy. (wink, wink.) I smiled as I watched the various animated conversations,
and felt incredibly loved. It was then I heard
a faint knock at the door, and turned to see who were going to have to try to
cram into the room.
My eyes widened in shock as I spotted a short, handsome boy holding his mother’s hand.
In a flash he ran to my bed to wrap me in a hug.
It was Frank.
My adorable, smiling, gravelly voiced Frank.
It was the last thing I expected, but the very best medicine I could have gotten; the best medicine,
indeed.
