Each time I was admitted to the hospital as an in-patient, I
was given my gown and pair of poorly made non-slip socks. Initially,
I wore those lifeless beige socks and accepted my role as a patient, but
the more time I spent in the hospital, the more I started wearing my own socks.
Fun socks. Socks with fish. Socks with dinosaurs. Socks with wolves. And it helped.
It may seem ridiculous, but that little change reminded me that whatever the circumstances—no
matter how little I wanted to be cooped up in the hospital, my perception of that hospital
experience was under my control. Treatment became my opportunity to create purpose.