If you happened to check out my last entry, then you will know that my leg recently matched wits with a bottle of carbonated beverage and it lost in a most pathetic fashion. In fact, it still seems like just yesterday that I was carted off to the ER and stitched up by an excellent team of civilian medical providers. All in all, the experience could have been a lot worse.

What I didn’t mention was that while sitting on a gurney, a lady came in and started to go through some bonus admin items with me.

“What is your religion?” she asked.

Uh…..really?

I know, I know- they probably want to know this for when they have to give my leg last rites in such a way that I won’t sue them for doing it wrong- but still, this question struck me funny. It’s a private matter, and accordingly I hesitated as I looked at her though a scrunched up face. Finally, I answered in the most honest way that I could.

“Ummm…I like…trees?”

She barely paused as she looked at her clipboard.

“So spiritual?”

Yeah sure. That sounds about right for my leg.  Spiritual leg and mind. Can we move on now to some actual medical care?

I only bring this up now because I actually am a big believer in the interconnectedness of the universe. While I’m not exactly religious in a way that would properly fill out that lady’s questionnaire, I really do believe in things. Like a seemingly freak return visit to that very ER just one week later.

Check it out:

I got a call from a dear friend of mine on a Friday afternoon. She wanted to know if I was busy- and if I was free, could I take her to a hospital? She told me that she dropped a glass platter on the ground and sliced open her leg. She thinks that there’s an ER close by where she can get some stitches. She mentions the same hospital that I visited just days before.  No kidding.

I’m always too happy to pay things forward, even if the context takes this kind of bizarre, near-identical format.

Once admitted, we’re even in the same room. This is where I sat when I professed to the world my affection for trees. As I start to recount to my friend how my experience went, in pops the physician’s assistant. I immediately recognize her as my PA, and I say “Hi!” to her as she does a double take and quickly places me from the week before. A few moments of follow-up questions on my own injury deflects the treatment plan away from my friend, but then she returns her attention to the similarly-open slice currently awaiting attention.

As my friend is moved to X-Ray, even the same nurse that I had last week comes in and assists with the transport. She recognizes me and we discuss follow-up concerns for my own leg as we wait for the X-Ray to finish. Not that I had ever planned to come in to the ER for a secondary visit, but I learned more about nerve damage from these two professionals than I had from my primary care physician with respect to my leg (hint: one of these three people used “Google” to learn about my sliced nerve.).

As the stitch job progresses, the PA asks about my previous weekend’s plans, and I’m impressed at how much she remembers about me. (The morning after getting stitched up, I hopped a bus to New York City). She finishes stitching up my friend and we get ready to vacate this fine establishment- hopefully for good.

As the PA comes back to clean up, I see that she’s got another bandage and some antiseptic in hand. She says that my stitch area looks a little red and wants to cover it up. Man, all this place needs is a rolling cart of alcoholic beverages and you’ve got yourself a really first rate ER!

And much like the week before, we are once again on our way and back to our regularly scheduled lives. It’s funny how things work out sometimes.

I don’t plan on going back to the ER any time soon, but I did mention to my friend that it was now her time to find someone in need and apply the lessons that I have just passed down to her. Even the PA told us to bring some more friends for the next time we come around.

Sure this could all be chalked up to crazy ass coincidence, but it was still an incredible adventure nonetheless. Whether you believe in trees or not, I’m just grateful to have played my part in life’s web of response and support. Besides, you never know what torment I’ll next accidentally inflict upon myself- and I’ll be sure to have a handful of numbers on speed dial.