I am overjoyed that I do not need a heart transplant at this time.
Got my fungal foot powder? Ah, it's a lifesaver, you know. I'd effectively be disabled if it weren't for these.
In the Radiation Laboratory we count it a privilege to do everything we can to assist our medical colleagues in the application of these new tools to the problems of human suffering.
I believe in prescription drugs. I believe in feeling better.
I can testify to what UNICEF means to children because I was among those who received food and medical relief right after World War II.
Chemotherapy isn't easy. I felt very fortunate I wouldn't have to go through that.
Diseases desperate grown by desperate appliance are relieved, or not at all.
I got a chiropractor to come along to the Patriot shoot, because they can actually stick you back together within 15 minutes. He spent a week and worked on the entire crew. All the stunt guys were like, 'Oh, fix my disc.' The guy's amazing.
My business is stanching blood and feeding fainting men; my post the open field between the bullet and the hospital. I sometimes discuss the application of a compress or a wisp of hay under a broken limb, but not the bearing and merits of a political movement. I make gruel--not speeches; I write letters home for wounded soldiers, not political addresses.
There is not much sense in suffering, since drugs can be given for pain, itching, and other discomforts. The belief has long died that suffering here on earth will be rewarded in heaven. Suffering has lost its meaning.
When you get chemo, some people get a lot of sores in their mouth and even their esophagus, so they chew on ice; thank God that didn't happen with me.
The great medical facilities are a relief for the parents, too, who don't have to think about caring for their young ones on their own for a weekend. They have a great time.
When you see a tumour in the brain, it's an ugly looking thing. It's kind of black, grisly and messy. Or it can be white. To see it taken away is just amazing.
So you stick something up your ass, and you hope it might work, and it usually helps.
Before journalism, I had worked doing medical aid work in conflict zones. Then, as a journalist, I had written about hospitals in war zones.
