This is exactly why I don't go to hospitals. Last year, I accidentally decapitated myself while bowling with friends, put my head back in place and sealed it with with masking tape just to avoid an extended hospital stay where I'd wake up from a coma to discover Japan overrun with flesh-eating zombies.
You know, as opposed to vegan zombies.
Seriously, though, this is one of my main phobias: an extended hospital stay, followed by zombie apocalypse. And while you'd think this particular fear-- so intense I self-treated a catastrophic injury that should have resulted in my death-- would prevent me from enjoying Robert Kirkman's zombie-heavy comic series The Walking Dead, you'd be wrong. But don't feel bad. I assumed as much myself, until I started reading the series and fell in love.
Anyway, I thought I'd licked this fear. I moved back to the United States, began treatment with a boffo cognitive therapist. I was almost ready for the final stage of desensitization-- crashing my car into a tree and spending several months in an actual hospital. And dammit, now there's a TV show version and the first episode is-- like comic's premiere issue-- set largely in my home state of Georgia. My relapse has been so severe, I spend most of my time hiding under my bed with canned dog food for sustenance, plus bottled water. I'm heavily armed, too, so don't get any ideas if you're a zombie and you're reading this.
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