A gentle rant on medical infantilization and the “pet parent” trap

Smack in the thick of Miami’s COVID spike, I had to have minor surgery to correct a bony defect caused by Rottweiler skull-induced trauma to my nose. The timing was technically elective. It needed to be done eventually, but the sooner the better, cosmetically speaking. I chose vanity over safety weeks in advance, not knowing my zip code would zoom to the top of COVID’s bell curve of casualties on that exact day.

At least it was an excuse to test myself ($350 for a 24-hour “concierge” negative) and take a much-needed mental break––a two-week staycation––after powering through the first full half of 2020 without so much as one whole day off (Sundays included). Despite the pain I anticipated, and the unsightly bruising, I was looking forwar...


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