Mrs Cowboy Is Not Well
As if in a trance, I drive home on auto-pilot. Her night-bag is already prepared, courtesy of my sister-in-law. After a quick shower, I load my work clothes and shoes into the car. While I drive back, I make calls to rearrange my schedule on Monday.
Hospitals and I have never got along. They reek of drowning men clutching strands of straw. To me, they are not houses of healing, but rather final stops on this journey called life.
The doctor resembles a Doolittle - unkempt, balding, bespectacled and clueless. He doesn’t know why her fever will not subside despite repeat administration of remedies.
Tonight I keep watch in this hospital. Mrs Cowboy really isn’t well.
Cowboy Caleb recommends 


32 Comments