In The Hospital—DAY
When I come to, several doctors and surgeons, most notably my two old mortician friends, are hovering over my body on a table in an operating theater.
My head has been severed from my body.
Although I am groggy and it is unclear what they are doing, it is at least clear that the head surgeon is suturing something up on me while humming to himself.
“Head surgeon.” Ha.
I can see several camera monitors about the OR and I watch on the camera’s monitor as the micro-surgeons reattach blood vessels and nerves. This reinforces the thought that not one but several reconstructive surgeries being under taken on me, as does a series of metal pans containing various anatomical tidbits, reminiscent of what I saw earlier in the morgue. Soon I will be whole again. A nurse wipes the sweat from the surgeon’s brow as he addresses the younger doctors.
“So, you see, with all the advancements in modern medicine, all most anything is possible. All you need is patience.”
There is some muted laughter that flusters the doctor.
“Oh! Forgive my pun! Yes, and patients, of course.”
Soon I am being wheeled down the corridor by this entourage of doctors. Slowly, I wake more fully as the ceiling tiles whiz by.
I smile, “Well, doc, that’s step one. Now, how are you going to reattach a disconnected soul?”
With that I fall back into twilight till I am wheeled into a patient room. I sit up in the hospital bed, finding myself overseen by some nurses who seem to be doing their best to ignore me. I lay back down. When they leave, I hop painfully out of the hospital bed. As the blankets fall away a multitude of fresh stitches reveal a multitude of major surgeries and reattached limbs. Ugh. No time or use to consider what they’ve done right now. I move as quickly as possible to the door.
When the coast is clear, I stealthily move down the hall. I steal a scrub suit from a laundry bin and throw it on as quickly as I can. I take a roundabout way, even passing a large woman with curlers and a muumuu, and a large barrel-chested sailor type who can be seen yelling and waving arms down one corridor. Sailor Lou? Miss Maggie? No time. I shrug and head towards an exit.
Outside, the sun drags on, refusing to die, but the day is almost over. I trudge along the endless, faceless, acres posted as HOSPITAL PROPERTY. Thankfully, a car pulls up and Andrea is there, rolling down her window.
“How are you, my Piteux?”
“Do you know how horrible the hospital is? Look at its grim, overbearing shape! And mine!”
“Your what, Piteux?”
I hang my head, “My grim, overbearing shape...”
But, Andrea parks the car and gets out. She takes me by the arm, and leads me back inside. I’ve walked so long trying to leave the property, yet here I am still by the entrance.
Andrea practically drags me in the door then waves her arms at the bustling hospital staff.
“I am unconvinced. And, you look more concerned with avoiding Spike than helping me...”
I turn. But, she has disappeared. I head back outside before the staff notices I am back.
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