The Surgical Story / by Reginald Crump

I take a break from singing my creepy, melodic tune, to flip through the TV Channels. I hope to find something other than HGTV to focus my attention on.

No such luck.

HGTV it is.

I re-adjust my hospital bed and request my bedside potty to be changed. Urgh :(.

Dinner arrives.

I sort through the choices on the plate and "zero" in on the healthier selection provided, which leaves me with the "vegetables" and canned "ginger ale." (Note "zero" healthier selection).

Out of frustration I dive into the "meat" vowing to eat healthy once I'm released. I keep my fingers crossed that my next vital check doesn't reveal high blood pressure because of the meal plan I'm provided in this situation.

TV

FOOD

SINGING

HOSPITAL BED YOGA/PILATES

 

TV

FOOD

SINGING

HOSPITAL BED YOGA/PILATES

ON REPEAT ON REPEAT REPEAT REPEAT REPEAT

Eventually I drift off to sleep.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

It's been a relatively quiet day in the hospital.

At least on my floor.

The rhythm of pitter patter of walking feet on the shiny hospital hallway floor become distinct.

I here in the distance someone approaching the nurses station outside my door.

They ask a question. Slowly the pitter patter approaches my door.

I lay in bed.

Eyes closed.

Focused only on the sound of each step.

Eventually a hand begins to push the door open.

Through the slits, no wider than the thin button holes on your favorite cardigan, I barely open eyes.

Peaking toward the direction of the door, to my surprise a smile conquers my face. My cheeks pull the creases of my lips toward my ears like curtains in a brand new theater opening for the first time. My pearly brights take center stage.