Making people angry

When I was three years old I got very sick.
Mum told me that I sat under the table when she was making dinner and suddenly just fainted.
She rushed to the hospital and after some tests the doctor told her that I had meningitis.
I have a few memories of this, but strangely they are all good ones.
I remember how cool it felt to have a IV-needle in my hand.
The red balloons mum bought me, the colorful playroom with all the fun toys and the kind doctors.

Mum says I almost died and that she was terrified.

10 years later I was at the hospital again.
This time because they tought I had anorexia.
Maby I did.
I still don't know.



I loved hospitals.
The kind doctors with their worried eyes and the smell of clean people.
I loved the attention, that they cared for me.
That I made them so angry.