Run, do not walk - to the hospital. Infection can occur in two different forms - viral, or bacteria - and we could be talking about old latin words like encephalitis or meningitis. Bacterial meningitis can kill you in six hours. Viral forms can kill as well, but at least you have a shot at surviving it.
I'm not sure what viral encephalitis is all about. But Patsy caught the clap and her husband built a big billboard just outside of where I live. And it went to her brain. His riff was that God healed his wife.
Perhaps he was right. From what I read, Patsy would be in for a pretty bad ride. But the key is that she would be eaten by a virus - not a bacillis - and that virus would leave scarring, and lesions in the brain. It hit her pretty bad. Her husband posted some pictures of her dying. I am not sure if she is truly down with pictures of her posted on the internet with something stuck in her mouth - but then again, if you think about it....it's been done before in various forms, hasn't it.
What interests me, personally - about Patsy's case - apart from the stupid billboard and the webpage is the concept that a distant, and entirely organizational prayer network is being attributed for her recovery. God did heal Patsy. Did he heal her through her husband? Or a giant , pseudo-christian , politically oriented network of people mouthing words on their bended knee.
Lets back up for a minute. I've been told that God doesn't exist. And if he did, why not hit that Waffle House sign over there and put it on fire? Interesting question. My answer is - if God is a universal creature, then we as a life form are kind of like a sort of microbe to him. God would use the butterfly effect every now and then, wouldn't he? So - encouraging one butterfly to flap its wings just for the fun of changing the weather in the amazon - he could conceivably give you the winning lottery ticket and light off a Waffle House sign.
Or he can give a man the strength he needs to love his wife so intensely that even though he posts pictures of her on the internet, with things stuck in her mouth - she senses that emotion and she begins a recovery.
I am down with Rabbi Harold Kushner - on all of this. We should never pray to God for a new Mercedes Benz. We should pray to God that we are strong enough to work for the money to be able buy a new Mercedes Benz. And yes, sure I believe in God. But then again. I also believe that I'm going to one day be with a woman, who loves me, and cares for me and my children - and doesn't severely and horrifically abuse me during the course of our relationship - running me through withering verbal abuse, emotional abuse, and even crossing the line into physical abuse and permanent scarring.
That you will never fucking see. Because it is none of your fucking business. It was kind of cool this guy posted this billboard. It's also fun to think of how things are going to change when preachers stealing money from the sick and the poor are all going to have to find another way to operate when we shift out to a new societal vehicle for status.
My vote is that vehicle will be things you can do to your body yourself. And oh, yeah - people will be able to tune into what God can do to them. Run an IronMan. Hospitals will become cozy hobbit-holes with gardens growing their green medicine. Doctors will become priests. Wounds will be healed by maggots - their keen sense of smell and ravenous hunger taking them straight to diseased flesh. Your DNA will be mixed with the earth, and the soil, and the plants around you. Friends, and family will be by your side as you recover - guiding you on. The time of corruption in medicine, artificial - dehumanized surroundings in hospital - and the concept that you can just take a drug to make you better. Will pass. Granted, hobbit holes are a long stretch. We'll probably see, at first - simply, a warmer place in which medicine is conducted.
And who knows. Maybe Husbands and Wives can love each other to the point in which it doesn't make sense. Even after they're dead. Visiting her in the graveyard. Placing flowers on her grave. Talking to her. Telling her how the children are growing up. Maybe small talk at first.
And then the tear comes. But he's a man, and he pushes it back. He touches her tombstone. The granite is cold. He feels the grass. And finally he is quiet. And he just sits there with her. He can hear the wind.