Write On!

Mrs. Randall Is None Too Pleased

In Uncategorized on March 22, 2012 at 7:34 pm

by Jen Gregory

I should have yelled stop. Maybe if I had hollered I wouldn’t be in this mess but they give you that little drug, the “I don’t give a darn” shot that makes you so happy. I love that drug. I’ve long thought every mother should get one dose a month to be used on any day so long as they could commit to not going anywhere and not driving. Just one day a month, that’s all. I have it all figured out. You’d have to show up at the Dr.’s office so they could administer it. You’d have a ride with you. That way it wouldn’t be stolen by friends from the medicine cabinet. You know they would! I think husbands would be happy to help. Medically necessary, I say. I’d take it every month right as my hormones are shifting, right when the kids get that little demon in them and my husband becomes more forgetful and less loving. I’d take it then unless something worse was going on. Where was I, oh, yeah! I should have yelled stop!

I was laying there, happy and care free, relaxed. That big old light was right over me and that sweet, skinny little nurse with the Georgia accent was setting out the instruments, readying the room for the doctor, talking to the other nurse. I heard her say, “I wore a thong today and it’s really bothering my rear end.” I started snickering, couldn’t stop which made her get quiet.

Their voices were echoing in that sort of calming way a small empty room can produce. I had a hot blanket on my legs and I’d forgotten my husband had failed to bring me there, that my mamma was in the waiting room picking up his slack, as usual. See what I mean, we all need a dose of that stuff now and then. Mine was timely that day.

Anyways, the light over me was bright and cold making those ladies look like little scrub clad angels. Their sweet tones soon replaced by the rougher tone of a new person, the drug doctor. He’s my favorite. “Hello Mrs. Randall, can you feel my hand in yours, squeeze my hand please, count to ten.” I was on two when I heard a new voice, “How is the patient?”

“She’s just about ready, Dr. Nimala.”

“Good, good. Mrs. Randall, you’re going to be a new woman soon.” This strange doctor said calm and sweet.

Dr. Who? I thought in a fuzz. I should have yelled stop right then. I’ve never heard of a Dr. Nimala and I know my name isn’t Mrs. Randall but the dad blame drug had me all happy, so I just said, “three, four, five, six, seve…”

 

So here I sit, a new woman all right.

Bill did show up to visit me, can’t get the dumb oaf to quit snickering. My gall bladder is still killing me and my chest is real sore. They are keeping me for observation and honestly I think they want me to get used to all this before I call my attorney.

The hospital has the snafu all figured out right now and they are treating me like a queen. I hear Mrs. Randall is raising quite the stink though. I’m betting if I wanted a monthly dose of that happy drug, I could get it right now. I’ve never stayed in the hospital except to have babies but I don’t think it gets better than how they are treating me right now. My biggest decision is what I want to do next. First things first, they have to take out my gall bladder. They said in one day or two I should be recovered enough to go through the second operation. Then I have to decide if I want the surgery undone. They said it wouldn’t be a big deal. They can’t undo some of it but they can restore me to a more natural state if I want. Bill says why not keep it, it’s free.

He loves a good freebie but it hurts right now and I’m altered! I haven’t gotten to look at them yet but I’m anxious to. I keep wondering what the preacher will think if I keep them. I could always say I was just scared of doing more surgery but I think everybody would know. I wonder if my attorney can put in claims for a new wardrobe. I’m going to need some new clothes probably. I’ve been too scared to ask what size the doctor put in.

I’m most nervous about explaining it to the kids. Seems to me it’s going to be really confusing. They say in two weeks I can take the bandages off. I have to lay low for six weeks, no working. I can’t wait to explain this to my boss. Right now Bill just called and told them there where some complications with the surgery. There sure were! Now what?

Well, I’m going to eat this food they are bringing me. It really isn’t bad at all. I’m going to sit and talk to Bill, best alone time we’ve had in years and I’m going to call the kids who are at my mommas and tell them I love them. Eventually, I’m going to have to call an attorney. I wonder if I win a malpractice suit like this one if I will have to give them back. I’m just not sure what to do. Poor Mrs. Randall. That’s who I feel sorriest for. My story winds up kind of interesting, perked up things in my life for sure. Sorry, couldn’t help myself, it’s the drugs; they have me doped up on lots of stuff for pain. Makes me real loopy, nothing like that happy drug. Nope, this is nothing like that.

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  1. Oh, I loved it! Lots of giggles. 🙂 I love that happy drug too.

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