Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Broken Spine - Part Nine

Once they wheeled me across the catwalk and into the hospital, they led me straight to my room and put me in a hospital bed. (Private room - fuck yeah!) I was in so much pain, so I fought it the only way I knew how: I started trying to go to sleep (with the help of drugs of course.) They told me that in a few hours someone would come in to fit me for a back brace.

This was the first time I had ever been a patient in a hospital. As I started falling asleep, I started anticipating exactly how good my nurse would look when I woke up - I thought about this in the exact way you would think a 16 year old would. Hell, let's be real, that's the same way a 60 year old man would, too. Because if sitcoms and movies had taught me anything: my nurse was going to be gorgeous. And she was going to be whatever I wanted. If I wanted a blond, I'd get a blond. If I wanted her to be Chinese, she'd be Chinese. If I wanted a Chinese blond - I could even get that. That had to be the way it worked. Right? I couldn't wait to wake up and get whatever I wanted - which changed every five seconds. Then I fell asleep.

When my nurse woke me up, you know what I got?

A big, muscular, hairy, middle-aged, yankee, dude, with a lisp and a buzzcut.

Here comes the understatement of the year:

Dude, that was totally not what I wanted.

In fact, that may have been the most extreme opposite of what I wanted. I was so pissed! What a buzz-kill! And I was so offended that this dude had the nerve to ask me to roll over so he could do his job and fit me for a back brace that was going help me heal and improve my quality of life.

I hated him. I was such a bastard to him.

He was such a nice guy. He was such a patient guy.

And I was such a motherfucker to him.

He put up with so much of my shit. I wasn't nice to him. I didn't do what he asked without putting up a fight the whole way. And still, this guy never yelled at me or said even the most cross words toward me. He just persistently stuck with me until he got my asshole-self flipped over where he could apply these warm plaster strips to me that would harden into a mold while I bitched the whole time at his competent ass.

And thin when he was done with my back, he flipped me over and went through the same bullshit routine with this little punk that was me, as he layed the plaster on my front and finished fitting me for my brace.

I was such a jerk to this guy. And 100 percent of it had to do with the fact that he wasn't a pretty lady.

Now that I am older I have so much respect for this guy and all other medical professionals. They help people who treat them like crap.

There aren't many people on Earth I owe an apology. Either I'm not sorry, or I've genuinely told them I'm sorry. But this guy, who I've never seen in my life again, is still owed an apology by me.

So wherever you are, Big, Muscular, Hairy, Middle-aged, Yankee, Dude with a Lisp and a Buzzcut, I am so sorry. I hope you forgive me for being such a piece of shit to you.

No comments:

Post a Comment