The Surgical Story / by Reginald Crump

The euphoria that comes with the medication that I'm on seems to be heightened by the machines that are running in the room. I'm fully plugged in. Each machine makes its own significant sound and as time slowly passes, it becomes more and more impossible to escape it. Unless of course I'm in a deep sleep.

As the day progresses the rhythms of the machines become more and more prominent, along with the fading numbness of my soon to be throbbing knee. It reveals the pain of my incision creeping in. I meditate, focus on my breath and I shift the best way I can. All without disturbing my knee too much.

I find ways of engaging my abdominals while lengthening through both heels and toes.

The sounds from the room are the soundtrack. I design my personal hospital bed fitness class. I get deeper and deeper into my workout. Unable to escape the electrical world of mechanical rhythm.

The phone rings, this time it's my sister wishing me a Merry Christmas. She cheers me up with a series of hilarious stories, one after the other. She does this until it's time for her to get off the phone to prepare for the rest of Christmas Day.

I of course jump directly back into my hospital bed "Monstah Blacks, Hospital Bed, Christmas Fitness Series."

I'm driven by the A-flat to B-sharp. Or is it the B-flat to A-sharp?

Whatever, it doesn't matter, I'll figure out what the notes are once I'm done with the last repetition of leg lift/side twist series.