The Face Lift

This is the best sleep I have ever had! I am warm, cozy, content; yet someone is trying to disturb me. In fact, I am pretty sure someone is shaking my arm and calling my name. How rude!

I try as best I can to ignore this inappropriate interruption of my precious slumber, but the arm-shaking and name-calling persist. Slowly I open one eye, and I can just make out the blurry image of a woman dressed in what looks like Mickey Mouse pajamas with a matching cap. Cute!

Then it starts to dawn on me. This isn’t a slumber party. I am waking from my surgery, and it is my nurse who is calling my name. It is over! As I shake the last of the cobwebs from my anesthetized brain, she asks me if I am able to sit up and drink some ginger ale.

“No problem,” I croak. Whoa! What has happened to my voice?

She sits me up and brings the straw to my lips. I notice that she has to use a precision maneuver to get the straw through what I guess are bandages to my mouth. Now, as you all know, I read the glossy pamphlet, so I was already well aware that there would be bandages on my head post-surgery. Not to worry!

“Your husband is on his way,” she says.

“Great,” I squeak before falling unconscious once again.