Sometimes in life, we need a good companion in our corner. To encourage us, to tell us which clothes in our closets we should burn, to urge us to talk to our office crush, and to make sure we don’t have any food in our teeth when we do. That’s where I come in, your friendly wingwoman. Or, in my absence, where one of your close buddies steps up to the plate. Call it the Goose to your Maverick, if you will.

But I’d be willing to bet that very few of you have a friend as good as the person who wrote the below memo. What am I talking about? Here’s the Cliffs Notes version of what one woman did for her infirmed pal.

A woman who goes by JoDiegoJo on Reddit wasn’t feeling well. She went to the ER. In a bizarre series of events, somehow a nurse allegedly gave her the wrong medication, which interacted with another medication causing hypoxia, a condition where the body is deprived of an adequate oxygen supply. (For the record, the “allegedly” is solely to be diplomatic. I totally believe her claim that the hospital F-ed up).

When she woke up, her brain was so affected that she suffered severe short term memory loss. She couldn’t remember anything for more than five minutes, causing her to ask the same questions on loop and presumably drive everyone around her nuts. So, her best friend devised a cheat sheet with the answers to her most-asked questions. All this while the woman underwent cognitive therapy much like that of a stroke victim. The situation wasn’t funny, but her friend’s candor in her letter is

With lines like the question, “What’s wrong with me?  You were vomiting, had a terrible headache and were not able to be aroused (lolz what’s new?),”  her friend awesomely tries to make light of the circumstances. (Plus, she obviously knows something Jo’s husband does not).

I’m not sure what I was more amused by, the fact that Jo was informed that she called her grandmother “a dipshit,” or that her bizarre fixation with the hospital floors garnered the response, “Yeah bro, I don’t know what your fascination with the floors is, but you’ve said that like 800 times.”

And I thought it was weird that I called all my girl friends by their last names…

Apparently she is now on the mend (but I still refuse to write out her screen name again because it triggers the theme songs from “Diego” and “Dora the Explorer” to get stuck in my head).

The moral of the story – other than to avoid whatever hospital that was like the plague – is that we should all be so lucky to have friends that not only drop everything for us (her friend also took leave from work to watch her pal’s children), but also manage to infuse a little humor into the mix, too. Not to mention telling us when we’re being a dick to our Nanas.

So happy reading, Wingman faithful. Happy Friday. And may the person riding in your sidecar always be this stellar, too.GEEK WINGMAN

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