Boring is Boring

Every Tuesday and Friday I go for an infusion of glutathione, a super antioxidant that coaxes the immune system into doing its job. (An infusion in this case means the intravenous delivery of the substance.) My gambit is that this extra boost to my warrior cell friends will offset the ravages of chemo - a holocaust that almost cost my life's breath while killing off the cancer that had invaded my system.

Thankfully, I am not needle phobic and in fact this twice-weekly ritual is eagerly anticipated; a time to lie in a chaise, be pampered with soft pillows and tea, and chat with the nurse who's a sister in spirit and friend of forty plus years. 

Today she told me that she has started doing more infusions, a service she enjoys as every patient is an entire volume of unique experiences. Her keen ability to listen makes her privy to the vagaries of each and every life. As she described how fascinating every life story is, I questioned, "Everyone's life is interesting?"

She paused and conceded, "Well, maybe a few people have boring lives."

Feeling ashamed that I had dared to challenge her sparkling take on the humans for whom she cares, I said, "Even when their lives are boring, that in and off itself is an interesting thing to observe." We both laughed and proceeded to natter on about this and that for the last fifteen minutes it took for the large vial of fluid to empty into the vein in my right hand.

In fact, there is nothing more boring than people who say they are bored. Bored. What on earth is that, other than mental dullness born from a laziness of mind?  Think about it.

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