What are you doing here, the one-eyed editor said to himself.

It's Camp. I like it here, he replied to himself.

You know that's not what I meant, he said.

If you were a better journalist, you'd be more precise with your questions, he told himself.

Okay, let's be very precise. Weren't you supposed to be in Royal Brisbane Hospital for an operation?

Yes, but God didn't want me there, he told himself.

He healed you? he asked himself.

No He made me more sick.

So making you more sick means you don't have to go to hospital?

Exactly, he told himself.

I don't understand.

You never do.

Well please explain.

Last Friday they booked me in for an emergency operation on my eye. But it meant that I wouldn't be here to write the Camp newsletter.

I know that, he told himself.

Well don't interrupt and you'll learn more, he said to himself abruptly.

I had the flu when they did my pre-op at Royal Brisbane on Friday. But they hoped it would be right for the operation. I had to get a clearance from my local GP.

But Dr Calvin Palmer wrote a certificate to say I am too sick for the operation.

So because you are too sick, you didn't have to miss work here at the Camp.

Exactly.

But doctor's certificates that say you are too sick usually mean you don't have to work.

Exactly. But mine means I can work.

That's the strangest "sickie" a doctor ever gave to anyone.

Exactly, he said to himself. But nothing is exactly strange where God is involved.