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Archive for October 31st, 2012

Guest Blogger: Rachel Firasek
Wednesday, October 31st, 2012

This year I’ve been notoriously late for my blog posts, but I promise it’s with mostly good reason. Delilah was so sweet when I shared with her why I’m sending this at the last minute. I had surgery early in October—my first ever. We removed a tumor and my thyroid. Anyway, that’s not what this post is about. It’s Halloween! Time for hauntings and I wanted to share a true life horror moment with you guys—which stems from my hospital stay. I decided to make you the hero or heroine in the story, so enjoy my dark ride.

They wheel you down a long corridor, your honey is holding your hand and trying to keep his shit together, because after all, he is the hero of your dreams and has to live up to that status. You get one last moment to hug him, kiss him, and get a little grope if you’re lucky—or like me. He scolds you, “Behave. And you better make it through this so I can punish you for that.”

You are pushed into a large room with curtained stalls. There are bodies all around you. They draw the curtains so now it’s just you. The sounds around you are men and women telling others what is about to happen. You’ve been told that they’ll give you a happy drug to keep you calm during this stage, but so far nothing. A man wails about his wounded leg even though he lost it in WWII. Another man moans. A woman is weeping softly in the stall next to you while they talk about a double mastectomy. It is all too real.

A man comes in and inserts an IV. An hour passes. The time can be measured by the lovely round clock directly above your feet. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“Okay, it’s your turn.”

You frantically grasp the side of the bed frame and swivel up to see your doctor and nurse. “Wait. I was told I would have a happy drug before this shit went down. I really want that.”

The Doctor grins at you. His skull cap has pushed thick eyebrows low over his beady eyes and he winks. “I think you can make it.”

“Well, of course I can, but I don’t really want to if I don’t have to.”

Someone shoots something in your IV and the corridor lights grow fluffy and fade. Ah, you are much happier now. There’s some conversation around you. Someone puts a mask over your face and tells you to breathe. Breathe again. Breathe some more.

Three hours later.

You hear people calling your name and they want you to wake up to the burning pain. No. It’s much nicer in the dark.

“Wake up.”

Dim lights meet you and you’re again in a room full of stalls filled with other moaning, groaning bodies. Someone sits down next to you and takes your hand. The pain is unbearable, but you don’t say anything except to answer their many questions.

“What is your name.”

You answer.

“What day is it?”

You didn’t know that going in, so you guess. They don’t like this.

“Who is the president.”

You smirk. Really?

A man is woken two stalls down and he’s big, and mad. He fights the nurse. Your crew runs to help and it takes six of them to put him back on his bed. There is moaning and groaning everywhere. But it’s okay, because they have left you to suffer through your pain in peace.

A cute male nurse leans over you. A nice distraction from the fire inside. You try to open your eyes and watch his sexy ass as he twists and turns on his stool. He has blue eyes, but they are dull and not as blue as the man waiting for you somewhere else in the hospital. You reach up toward your incision, hoping to scratch away the pain.

He takes out a syringe and lays it on the bed next to you. So close. You can almost reach it if he wasn’t holding your arm down now. He smiles and you think, yes, he’s going to end this suffering. But he doesn’t. Instead he leans over and whispers. “It’ll be about fifteen more minutes before I can give you something for the pain.”

You glance up and through the slits of your eyes see the round clock stationed directly beyond you. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Okay, so the pain goes away with morphine—who knew? But, that really is how my OR experience went and it really is a terrifying moment. Horror doesn’t always have to be ghouls and goblins. Most of the time, it’s these events in our life that we draw from when we write. And you better believe that this experience will be in a book some day—a very sexy one.  😉 I hope you all have a safe and sexy Halloween, and if you are misplaced because of Sandy, just remember, if you have your health and safety, that is the most important thing.