I lay there in the hospital bed after the surgery feeling sleepy, drowsy, half here or there. Eyes half open I see the nurse walk in. It’s her first day she says. I’m her first patient. She’s happy and proud I can feel it. But I’m feeling uncomfortable. Even a bit damp and I tell her. She checks out the bed clothing and calmly and sweetly says “I’ll be right back.” I relax and drowse, feeling pretty blissful.
In rush a handful of interns and doctors I don’t know. Everyone giving orders all at once. They lift my covers and start shoving wads of cotton cloth up what feels like my inners and its so uncomfortable I just want them to stop.
Just when I think I can’t take it anymore a young tall good looking man walks through the door at a calm pace and says, “what are you doing? Stop!” And boy am I grateful. He has them pull all the wading away and I feel so relieved. He calls the nurse and other attendees and says were taking her bed and all back to surgery. There are complaints like, “you can’t do that”, and “we need to wait”. And he orders erveryone to move.
The bed’s moving. We burst through the room doors, running down the hospital corridors. It’s like a movie, except I’m in it. The young man is confident, strident. I think of Cary Grant. He even has the accent. I’m in love. I’m happy as the movie keeps going on. He rams the bed through the surgery doors and all I see are doctors, nurses, relaxing with cups of coffee in their hands. They jump to alert and yell, “you can’t burst in here like that. Take her back out, we aren’t ready. We’re waiting for more blood.” Cary attempts to argue the urgency as they calmly demand he move me back out.
Someone comes in the little anti-room, and covers me with warm, toasty flannel blankets. Oh my God how luscious the feeling. I drowse even more, absolutely blissful. At last Cary Grant strides in with his ever so calm demeanor and speaks quiet words of assurance as he gently moves the bed back into the surgery. It’s a movie again, still playing.
This time he pushes through into the surgery and is greeted by a team of waiting physicians and nurses all eager to do their thing. They wheel me into the operating room and as always eager I attempt to move as if assisting them to put me on the table. They say, “relax, we have you.” I let go and all together, warm cozy flannels and all, they gently lift me off the bed and onto the table.
I wake up three days later in ICU having no idea where I am. I try to move but can’t, not even an arm or my head. “It’s ok, that’s normal, especially when you lose so much blood”, the nurse says.
Back in my room the new nurse comes in. “Hi, welcome back,” she says. What a first day on the job! You were bleeding and it wouldn’t stop when you asked me to check on you. I don’t think you knew but you were only a second away from dying. I’m so grateful you’re ok.”
I’m tired and just sleepy and only half heartedly comprehend her words. The movie is still running as Cary Grant’s look alike walks in to check on me. He saved my life. No doubt about it, but I don’t think of that. I’m just happy to see him again. In the days that pass he smuggles big juicy hamburgers and chocolate milk shakes in to my room to fatten me up and build my strength. Yum