A Second Chance
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A Second Chance
Thirty years ago, on a brisk cool April morning before the sun had risen, I
was one month shy of my ninth birthday, my parents drove me to the Mayo Clinic in
Rochester, MN. I was going to the hospital to have renal surgery. I had never been a
stranger to hospitals, because I had spent half my life in them, but this was different. This
was more than just a test to see what was wrong with me; this was surgery.
It was a short thirty-minute drive to the hospital. The drive was quiet with no one
saying a word; the only noise came from the radio playing country music. It was still dark
outside and the birds hadn't woken up yet. With not much traffic on the road, we had made it there in record time, arriving at the hospital at 4:30 A.M..
As I walked down the corridors of the Mayo Clinic, the smell of the freshly cleaned and almost sanitized floors made me nauseous..