"...morphine"

 

"...morphine"

 "Two years ago today"

Act One Triage.

If an injury is possible it's here.

A prisoner cuffed to a gurney opposite me. A patrolman at his side. Grunts of the urban wars. Being soldiers they have much in common. So they spoke not of rage, but cars sports family, and the Army.

Iraq vets both.

Act Two Observation.

A pod of ten beds with flat screens floating above them. They limit meds. The Opioid Crisis. I watched hours of "The Walking Dead" to cheer myself up.

New Years Eve.

Our doctor played the ukulele, and sang to us.

Angels everywhere.

Act Three Treatment.

Assorted scary truths presented. The 'real' hospital begins. Here they keep all the knives, and saws. I'm pried injected drained poked x-rayed MRI's, and Sonogramed. I'm still not pregnant.

Act Four The Operating Theatre.

Walls ceilings flyby. Muted voices. Then so bright so cold so quick.

At some point my veins stopped working, and they had to go digging into my arteries for blood. That was the only fun part.

Act Five Post-Op.

A blur. Sleep. Deep sleep.

I think I remember nurses doctors speaking to me or maybe I dreamed them. Voices, "...does anybody have the keys to the narcotics locker?" Eventually I'm Medevac'd to my digs.

Act Six.

Home. ..."There, and Back Again"

Loves that phrase from "Lord of the Rings". It's just so handy.

I now wander about in a waking dream state,...which is how I'm writing this. Oh life you are so miraculous so terrible so short.

I really want some pizza.