Special Guest Blogger: Saint Camillus de Lellis

My life didn't start out all that saintly. I was born in 16th-century Naples and followed in my father's footsteps and went into soldiering and joined the Venetian army just as we began fighting against the Turks where in one battle, i got a nasty leg wound but after a few more scraps the regiment was disbanded and i traded in my sword for a horse and cart but my real love was gambling but as much as i loved it, it didn't love me back because i lost everything, including my horse, and was forced to work as a labourer at the local friary.
The guardian of the friary would often talk to me about God and things on my tea break and he offered me the chance to make it up to the big guy upstairs by doing his work down here.
I entered the Novitiate of the Capuchin friars although my leg wound continued to bother me and refused to heal but i decided that i could help the soldiers wounded on the battlefield so created a group of health care workers who would assist soldiers during conflict and we carried a large red cross to show the soldiers not to get all stabby on us as we were there to help.
It obviously worked because the big Red Cross became a thing as was the Friars burying people immediately after they died as the Bubonic Plague was killing millions but the newly buried were not always dead so i ordered that the Brothers of our Order wait fifteen minutes at a safe distance past the moment when the patient seemed to have drawn their last breath, in order to avoid burying them alive.
The problem with spending time around the sick is that you get sick yourself and as well as that damned unhealing sore on my leg, i suffered a rupture, weeping sores on my body, violent colic and a loss of appetite which compared to the other things, not being very peckish could have been worse.
At the age of 65, after a long life of caregiving, conflict, and not feeling hungry, i went and died despite all the prayers because popping a leach in your trousers and praying is not as effective as proper medicine and i was laid to rest in peace or rather in peace until someone decided to rip my Christ-loving heart out of my dead chest to send it on a tour around the globe for religious folk to gawp at rather than letting my mortal remains just turn to dust in a tasteful grave somewhere which truth told, would be my first choice but the Catholic Church does like a Saintly body part to hoick about.