A Shamanistic Perspective

I was recently admitted to a hospital for pulmonary reasons, and I'm
going to describe my experience in terms of shamanic practice instead
of conventional 'I went to the hospital and they gave me medicine..."
For those interested in placebo medicine and making treatment more
effective, LISTEN UP.

Upon realizing I was unable to cope with my illness alone, I summoned
the aid of some medicinal professionals. They came, dressed in strange
clothing and speaking some mutated version of English I had never
heard before. One carried in a bag of strange deceives. From this bag,
he plucked some magical gadgets and attached them to various parts of
my body. The machine had more lights and wires than I'd ever care to
understand. After joining myself with the machine, it began to emit a
series of beeping noises, which somehow made sense to the man. He
shouted something in his strange language to his female friend, who
had been writing continuously ever since she had entered my home. She
then proceeded to ask me semi-meaningful questions about my past and
wrote down my answers on her mysterious sheet. Next they strapped another apparatus to my face,
which began misting and a sudden wave of comfort passed over my lungs
as I felt the sudden ability to breathe return to me. They consulted
each other once more, and decided I needed to be moved to a place of
healing.

They walked me out to a strange machine, which was colorful and very
clean. I was seated inside on a small couch, surrounded by metal and
medicines. I was allowed to keep the mysterious misting mask they had
previously given me, and my breathing continued. The machine made a
loud noise, then began to move. As it progressed, the woman began to
comfort me, making small talk about me and my future. The ride was
pleasant enough, and quick. I arrived at the hospital, where I was
surrounded by strange looking people with foreign accents who kept
giving me different medicines and speaking that bizarre language.
After several confrontations with the doctors, I was transported to
another room with several other OBNOXIOUSLY LOUD SCREAMING BABIES HOLY
SHIT IT WAS HORRIBLE. (but I digress...) Here I was attached to
another beeping machine. More and more doctors and nurses came to me,
all smiling and telling me I was doing great. They gave me a small
plastic machine, which apparently I had a na
tural talent for. I was able to the the bar all the way to the top on
my second try.

At this point, all the details can be blended together. Nurses would
see me every 4 hours, continuing to give me words of encouragement and
EVER MORE MEDICINE.  A Super doctor also visited me, who told me my
future and prescribed me various medicines for future treatment. With
an assload of paper work, I was discharged from the hospital and
allowed to return to my home.

The phrase to remember here is 'establish meaningful routines.' If you
actually care enough to think about that and get stumped, ask about it
and I'll explain. It's too confusing for me to explain on two bowls, 3
hours of sleep, and a full bladder at 2AM.