The word “procedure” is used as a simplification for a complicated set of operations or calculations.
When I was notified by mail that I was due for a medical procedure, I just shoved the thing in my pocket. A good friend of mine strongly suggested that I reconsider.
I figured I was fine, in which case, he figured I would have nothing to lose.
“Have some faith,” he said.
Oh ye of little faith, that was me. I was the ye. I was the ultimate nullfidian, or so I thought.
Since abandoning my Catholic upbringing, I’d always refuted the ancient traditional ways of religion. He knew that about me and quickly added that I could instead have faith in the medical profession. Unfortunately, when I think of doctors, I recall condescension, the mistaken diagnosis, golf on Wednesdays and the by-the-book can’t think out-of-the-box approach.
I only have faith in Dr. Gregory House and evidently, he is fictional and relegated to reruns.
Finally, my friend suggested that I have faith in him. This I could do. I respected him and his opinions more than most. I believed wholeheartedly that he would only look after my best interests. That was it, argument over.
Without the worrisome nagging of laboring over every detail, I felt immediately at ease. By no longer analyzing every single little thing, I felt a relief. Apparently, faith can take a load from one’s shoulders.
Epiphanies always seem to stop me dead in my tracks.
I often wonder if I catch them because I’m insightful or if I miss them because I’m a moron. Either way, they are worth their weight in the purest gold and silver and like a bell, they can’t be unrung.
Suddenly, as if divinely, I began to notice other casual instances of faith. Whenever I turn the shower on and step in, I seem to have faith that there will be water jetting out instead of snake heads and doll vomit. When I put the bread in the toaster and turn it to a certain number, I can leave the room with the comfort that I’m not burning anything.