Sisters Morphine

How true … very funny yet very sad, like most great comedy.

I had a similar experience last year whilst in hospital for eight days with double pneumonia, close to death, hooked up with oxygen, numerous antibiotics, etc. and being fed large doses of hydrocodone every three hours for the pain brought about by not having any padding left in my hip, a pinched sciatic nerve, and crippling arthritis from neck down spine to butt, but I digress, just letting you see my frame of mind. I was alone, being too ill to share a room (and I’m not certain the staff wasn’t absolutely sure I wasn’t contagious with some dread new disease).

One late evening in the midst of my stay, a terrifically handsome and tall youngish man in slacks and a black turtleneck sweater (and no nametag, white coat, or other identifying insignia) strode into my room as if he owned me, calling out hello to a woman’s name that wasn’t mine. Telling him my real name, and asking who in hell he was, he then told me it was my “lucky day,” because he was the colo-rectal surgeon coming to see the patient upon whom he was about to operate, and whom he had obviously never met. (Turns out she was in the room next to mine.) I’m very glad I wasn’t asleep at the time, being given pre-op drugs in preparation for surgery I didn’t need at all.

I coined the term during that hospital stay, “speed dating with doctors,” because a new doctor would come in every day to see me, trailing side students, etc., spend about 90 seconds asking me stupid questions, and then leave. Truly unbelievable.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.