My Mom recently underwent surgery to remove a bone that had grown embedded in her muscle as an unusual after-effect of the stroke she had over a year ago. The surgery went well and has already helped her mobility a lot, but she came down with an infection, and now she has to have antibiotic treatments dripped into her veins twice a day at the hospital.
Last night I talked to my Dad on the phone, and he said, "We won't be able to go to church tomorrow because we'll be doing two hours with the drip." Without thinking, I laughed and replied, "That sounds pretty similar to some church services to me!"
My Dad pretended to be appalled at my cynicism, but in truth he knows I got it from him.
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