Written for Sadje’s What Do You See #303.
Some of you have read this, originally written
several years ago as I recounted a true story
about events experienced by me in the hospital
after surgery. The hallucinations were
very real and I remember every detail.
Tag: Hospital
Not My Kid
Written for OLWG #399, our three prompts
for this week are shown below. This my story.
A Dangerous Profession: Conclusion
Written for OLWG, FOWC and
Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge.
This is the conclusion to my story.
It’s Time
Well, kids, the possibility has become a reality. First thing this morning I will be having back surgery. It’s time; I can’t put it off any longer. Hopefully it won’t be too much of an ordeal but one never knows with these things. I’ll be off WordPress while I recuperate. Comments on this post have been disabled simply because I won’t be able to respond to them as quickly as I’d like and I apologize for that. I’m sure you understand.
That’s the story, my friends. See you on the flip side. 😎
Best always
~ Nancy
This is the R.E.M. song “Everybody Hurts” performed by Joe Cocker.
LYRICS
When your day is long
And the night, the night is yours alone
When you’re sure you’ve had enough
Of this life, well hang on
Don’t let yourself go
‘Cause everybody cries
Everybody hurts sometimes
Sometimes everything is wrong
Now it’s time to sing along
When your day is night alone (hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go (hold on)
If you think you’ve had too much
Of this life, well hang on
‘Cause everybody hurts
Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts
Don’t throw your hand, oh no
Don’t throw your hand
If you feel like you’re alone
No, no, no, you are not alone
If you’re on your own in this life
The days and nights are long
When you think you’ve had too much
Of this life to hang on
Well, everybody hurts sometimes
Everybody cries
Everybody hurts, sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes
So hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on
Everybody hurts
Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Peter Lawrence Buck/Michael E. Mills/William Thomas Berry/John Michael Stipe
Everybody Hurts lyrics © Night Garden Music
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Unnoticed
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are
asked to get creative in 250 words or less using
the photo below as inspiration. This is my story.
The claustrophobia started gradually for four-year-old Phoebe.
She had climbed into the back of her father’s flatbed truck to investigate the crates of chickens ready for market. Phoebe went unnoticed as her father threw a tarp over the back and locked the tailgate. When her dad found her, she was curled up in a ball, crying pitifully.
Over time, Phoebe seemed to forget about the incident in the truck.
Years later Phoebe was accidentally locked in her bedroom closet when a gust of wind blew through the window and slammed the closet door closed. Her parents were out and her older siblings were watching television; her frantic cries for help went unnoticed. Exhausted, Phoebe fell asleep in the closet, her family unaware. Her mother found her the next morning, traumatized.
Incidents like that kept happening. Phoebe became obsessed with her surroundings and her parents sought professional help. After eight years in the hospital, Phoebe was declared “cured”.
She met Evan, a great guy, and they began dating. Life was good again for Phoebe. For her birthday, Evan and Phoebe planned to see her favorite band. She felt safe with Evan and was unafraid to ride public transportation.
The train was packed. During one stop, Evan was pushed out with a crowd of passengers; the doors closed before he could get back in. Phoebe panicked when the train started up. She lost it.
At the last stop, Phoebe was found in the corner – disheveled, mumbling, eyes wild in terror. She was finally noticed.
NAR©2024
250 Words
This is “Crazy Train” by Ozzy Osbourne
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
TOMORROW NEVER KNOWS
A little step back in time as I recount
a true story of events experienced by me
in the hospital after hip replacement surgery.
The hallucinations were as real as my 2008 accident
and I remember even the minutest of details.
Originally published in 2021.
“Use the call button on the side panel of your bed if you need a nurse. My shift is almost over. Can I get you anything before I leave?”
It took me a few seconds to remember where I was as I stared at the friendly face of the nurse standing over me.
“Pain meds would be lovely” I answered, grimacing.
“You’re hooked up to a morphine drip; you should begin to feel much more comfortable very soon. Until then, try to get some rest” the nurse suggested.
I had been in an accident a day or two earlier, falling off a three-foot-high deck and landing on my left side with tremendous impact. As I lay stunned on the hard ground, my face resting on my outstretched left arm, I felt absolutely nothing. I thought I had survived the fall unscathed. Then I realized I could not move my feet or wiggle my toes. When the emergency medical teams arrived, they tried to gently and ever so slowly shift my body in order to slide a stretcher under me. That’s when it hit. Moving even a millimeter caused the most excruciating pain I had ever experienced in my life. It shot all the way down my motionless leg to my unmoving Apple Green painted toenails.
My hip was not broken; it was demolished.
I’m a firm believer that copious amounts of pain medication should be dispensed frequently to patients in need. I smiled wanly at the nurse and asked for my iPhone; while I waited for the morphine to take me to another dimension, I would lose myself in my playlist.
If you’re sick or injured, a hospital is the last place you want to be. Trying to rest is next to impossible. Patients pleading, buzzers buzzing, machines murmuring, carts careening, elevators elevating, doctors discussing, nurses needling. Even the mourning doves who kept watch on my windowsill were cooing ceaselessly.
I slipped in my earbuds and cued up The Beatles “Helter Skelter“. No matter how horrendous I may be feeling at any given moment, listening to that masterpiece makes life perfect for 4 minutes and 29 seconds.
Someone wheels in my dinner cart. Lifting the lid I see a salad, a medium-rare hamburger, a beverage and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. Not feeling hungry just yet, I go through my collection of albums trying to decide which one to play. Ah, “Revolver”. You can never go wrong with that beauty. I close my eyes and revel in the brilliance of “Tomorrow Never Knows”.
I’m suddenly aware of a rush of air and find I am now outside floating uptown over the streets of Manhattan, my hospital gown flapping like laundry on a clothesline. I hear the old Klaxon car horn sound of “AHOOGA!” behind me and swivel round to see a flying ice cream truck being driven by none other than John Lennon. Somehow, as bizarre as it all is, it seems perfectly normal.
“You getting in? We don’t want to be late” John says.
“Late for what?” I ask.
“For whatever comes next” John replies with a grin and I slide onto the seat beside him. “It’s very rude to be late, isn’t it?” and we zoom off.
“AHOOGA!!“
“What’s on your bucket list, me darlin’?” John asks me and I answer without hesitation “To go to Liverpool!”
“Ah, lovely Liverpool. I won’t be going back there again, I’m afraid. Next stop: The Dakota!” John calls out and we swoosh away.
“No, John. You mustn’t!” I beg him and I start to cry.
“Oh, but I must! Now dry those green eyes. It is my destiny and we can’t change that.“
He was silent for a moment, deep in thought, then he spoke very quietly to me:
“Nancy girl, listen to what I’m going to say. Aim for the stars. Love with your whole heart. Work hard. Be the best person you can be but never ever forget to have fun. Time is fleeting and tomorrow never knows so always eat dessert first. Got it? Good! Now, let’s be on our way.”
As I nod in agreement I can hear the faint words “Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream.”
And in a flash John and his flying ice cream truck are gone.
I open my eyes and gingerly prop myself up on my hospital bed pillow. Dinner is still there, right where I left it, and I find I’m suddenly starving. Ignoring everything else on my tray, I go directly to the Ben & Jerry’s, pop open the container of ice cream and dig in.
And in that moment I realize nothing in my life ever tasted so delicious.
NAR © 2023
Check out my post today
At The Movies.
I think you’re gonna like it!
https://rhythmsection.blog/
THE NIGHT NURSE
Denise hosts Six Sentence Stories, where there is one simple rule: stories must be 6 sentences – no more, no less. This week’s prompt word is: SILK
When my sister was born, there was no question what my parents would name her; since both my maternal and paternal grandmothers were named Rose and my maternal and paternal great-grandmothers were named Marie, my sister was given the name Rosemarie – simple, no questions asked.
When I came along four years later, there were no more available grandmother names; of course, my parents could have named me Marie Rose but even they thought that was a bit too cute although I’m sure my grandmothers and great-grandmothers would have done cartwheels over such a name.
The search for a name expanded to include my aunts – a concept which my mother was not thrilled about since she was an only child and there were no aunt names on her side; however there were two paternal aunts, Vincenzina and Francesca and the family feud began – (would I be simply Vincenzina or Francesca or perhaps a combination of the two?) – but the argument grew as to which name would be first and which would be the middle name.
The fighting became so intense, all visitors were told to leave my mother’s hospital room so she could rest but sleep eluded her as names kept spinning around in her head; besides, I didn’t look much like a Vincenzina or a Francesca with my peaches and cream complexion and silk-like platinum blonde hair.
After all our squabbling relatives left the hospital, the night nurse came into my mother’s room; seeing the distressed look on my mother’s face, she asked if there was anything wrong, to which my mother simply replied, “Family nonsense” and the nurse nodded knowingly, saying she understood how family members meant well but could be the cause of much upset, an explanation which pleased my mother greatly, so much so that she was inspired to ask the night nurse a question.
“Excuse me but what is your name?“ and the nurse replied “My name is Nancy … Nancy Ann”; my mother thought that was a lovely name which suited me very well and in the quiet empty room of St. Francis Hospital, my mother happily told the night nurse that was the name she wanted on my birth certificate …. And the rest, my friends is history.
NAR © 2023
The Elephant's Trunk 