I open my eyes as I glance around the recovery room, trying to comprehend just what has happened to me. I am lying upon a stretcher with cold cereal placed in front of me. After consuming the cereal, I call for the nurse and eventually a nurse arrives and asks, "Can I help you?" I ask her, "What has happened to me?"
She quickly glances through my medical records and tells me I had surgery on my back. Therefore, that explains the pains and strange feelings I get every time I move my back. Just then, the patient transportation workers arrive to take me up to my room. They prepare me for the wondrous, fun fulfilled journey by placing an extra pillow behind my head, covering me with extra blankets, and setting my medical records by my feet, then whisking me away like a used prop in a magic show.
The trip was horrendous, it seemed like we hit every corner and obstacle in our path as we hurriedly move through the hallways like a racecar at the Daytona 500, almost "flattening" people along the way. Finally, we arrive at our destination, still wondering how I survived and why they did not install seatbelts and air bags on the stretcher.
Briefly, I feel like a side of beef as they transfer me from the stretcher to the hospital bed and then covering my head with the sheets and blankets, as if I was DOA (Dead on Arrival). After they leave, I remove the covers from my head and breathe a sign of relief, thinking that the torture was finally over.
However, the feeling was short lived as the nurse on duty came into my room. Looking like she had some kind of "rod up her rectum", she utters something but the only thing I could vaguely comprehend was the word "Vitals." I raise my arm so she could take my blood pressure. As she fills up the bladder around my arm, it almost cuts off the circulation to my hand, and then rams a digital temperature probe so far into my mouth I almost choke on it. She quickly scribbles down the results and then storms out of the room like a raging bull at a bullfight. By this time, I am thinking, "Which is worse, the surgery or the recovery?"
Next, the food service worker walks into my room with my dinner, carelessly places it on the table, moves it in front of me, and then casually walks out of the room. I cautiously remove the packaging from each item on the tray and apprehensively examine its contents. Some of the items looked remotely edible and the rest of the items I can only describe as "BIOHAZARD." After reluctantly eating what I thought was safe, I scan through the TV channels, trying to keep my mind from leaving me completely as boredom begins to set in like rigormortis.
Suddenly, I begin to feel my leg shaking and someone calling my name. I open my eyes from a well-deserved slumber, only to gaze upon the face of a beautiful woman. She had long blond hair and the most beautiful hazel eyes, that if you gazed into them long enough, it would melt your insides like butter on a skillet, and a warm inviting smile that could make any man all "warm and fuzzy inside."
The sight of her lovely face and voluptuous body sends shock waves all over my body, but fortunately, I had enough "self control" to suppress them. She mentions that she would be my nurse for the night and call her if I need anything. Then she cheerfully smiles and walks out of the room. I shake my head and pinch myself to make sure I was not dreaming. Finally, I drift off to sleep again after reluctantly suppressing the never-ending pleasant thoughts that raced through my mind like a warm breeze, gently caressing my face on a beautiful spring day.
