I know that the universe wants me to be healed.

Consider how many people would rearrange a day for you without needing to be asked twice. Not the ones who send a heart on a message thread — the ones who would get in a car.

The number tends to be higher than anybody estimates. Illness is oddly good at revealing it, and that revelation is often the only unambiguously good thing about the whole business.

Being wanted well is not an abstraction. It has names and phone numbers attached to it.