Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Get the Damn Thorazine

I didn't sleep at all last night.  The World War Two veteran next door was busy fighting the Japanese all night.  He kept all the nurses busy so I didn't get my meds on time which made me a very angry Adrian.  I was ready to go over, and hit him with Thorazine shot affixed to the end of a bayonet.  Instead, the nurses covered his hands in gauze to the size of boxing gloves. 

Here's a few things I don't want to re-live.  First, the doctor removing the gauze and packing from my cut.  Second, the doctor removing the drainage tube from my wound.  Third, any amount of blood flowing from my wound (even though that is normal and healthy.)  Fourth, I just want to be rid of these saline bags.  I hate having to pee every hour, on the hour. 

Frankly, I just want out of here.  I want to eat chicken wings.  They don't have to be spicy.  They don't even have to be good.  I just want some of that delicious food they show on TV.  The doctor is supposed to release me today.  I don't know when, but I hope it is soon. 

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