I’m a little angry at the Vatican right now. I spoke to Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger -- oh, excuuuuse me: Pope Benedict XVI -- last week, who assured me that they would put off choosing a new pope until after this issue of the SKR was on church stands.

As I explained to him, since our deadline was Tuesday, there just wouldn’t be enough time for us to present significant coverage in this issue.

"Don’t worry, Dave," he told me. "I’ve got it handled."

Now, perhaps there was some sort of miscommunication. Or maybe one of the cardinals had a stomach ache, and the only way to get him some Rolaids was to name the pope and dart over to 7-11.

At this point, I don’t know what the reasons are, but be assured, when I find out, someone in Rome is in a lot of trouble.

Imagine! Naming the pope an hour after my deadline. How rude.

Thank you for your attention. We now return to the following column, already in progress.

There are two things I’ve noticed about being sick. (This is one of those rambling columns.) One, it’s extremely expensive. The following really happened a few weeks ago. I was on my way to the doctor’s office when I stopped for my mail and found a surprise, a $600 bill from my regular physician. Moments later a nurse asked me, "Do you know you have high blood pressure?" "It’s not that," I said. "I’m just having an allergic reaction."

An hour later, this new doctor gives me a prescription for 28 pills. When I asked the pharmacist for the price (which I have to cover before my insurance will pay for a percentage), she said, "$323." Seriously. My jaw dropped open. I said, "No thanks." When I told the doctor, he prescribed another set of 28 pills, similar in function to the other medication. The cost for this prescription? Six dollars. Go figure.

The second thing I’ve noticed about being sick is that wherever and whenever I’m in a doctor’s office waiting room, the TV is always airing "The Price is Right." Always.

Now whenever I hear that familiar theme music, whether passing the TV department at a store or visiting a friend, I’m suddenly filled with fear that I’m about to be poked, prodded or otherwise examined with a vast variety of frighteningly cold medical implements.

I recently attended a three-day retreat at the Heartland Center in Great Bend. Despite having misgivings in the days preceding the retreat, I have to say I found Father Eric Law’s teachings about cultures (not the medical kind) very valuable.

Prior to this experience, I had largely viewed work-related retreats the way most people view large, carnivorous mammals, or say, oozing lava. My fears when attending retreats are (from least to most feared):

5) Dining and socializing with other human beings: I am socially confused. I don’t want to eat alone, yet eating with people I don’t know causes me to adopt the social skills of a mole (not the medical kind).

4) Getting into small groups: Small groups greatly increase the chance of my having to say something, every word of which I’ll analyze and re-analyze as I’m laying in bed that night, eventually concluding that I’ve somehow upset every person in the group, and they all hate me.

3) Being asked to share a comment while in a small group (See #4).

2) Being asked to share a thought concerning so-and-so’s last comment, which I didn’t hear because I was daydreaming about taking Elly Mae Clampett to see the new "Star Wars" movie.

1) Suddenly having the main speaker call my name: Hearing my name being called – even at our department head meeting – is equivalent to receiving a small electric shock. The more people that are in attendance, the higher the voltage. If this had happened during the retreat, I probably wouldn’t be here right now, or at the very least, I’d have a new hair-do.

But this retreat? It was good. And for reasons other than the one below.

While exploring a lesson about personality types, I was placed in a small group of six or so people who were, well, most like me (Six out of 100. Not bad). Although we didn’t have time to get into real analysis, I learned there and then what I really needed to know at that particular moment, that there are other people out there who have anxieties and fears similar to mine.