the journal of literature and the arts at saint david ’ s school
upsetting , I would be missing one of the most anticipated sleepovers of the year . Although my appendix needed to be removed within a short period of time , I had the choice of having the procedure right away or sleeping in the hospital that night and having the procedure when an OR was available in the morning . Although I wished to spend the night there to wait for my father , realistically , I knew his flight would not land in time , even if I waited for the procedure in the morning . Furthermore , I longed to sleep in the comfort of my own bed .
As they wheeled me into the OR , I remember the different sizes of devices and machines , the needles on the wall , and most of all , the busy operating room staff in huge masks and goggles . The operating room reminded me of the type of room where Frankenstein was created . I felt as if I were him , being strapped down to a stretcher , with scientists creating something monstrous . Despite all the feelings of fear that crept into my thoughts , what kept my terrified emotions in check was knowing that only surgery was going to end the pain . Suddenly , they laid me down on the bed , put a mask over me , and a horrific scent of burning rubber let itself into my nostrils . After hysterically coughing , I was knocked out and left only with my dreams .
After what felt like decades , I woke up beside my smiling mother in another hospital bed . Out of the corner of my eye , I could see a clock hanging on the wall . Surprisingly , only 25 minutes had passed since I had been wheeled into the OR . The surgery was successful , and it was a good thing that we hadn ’ t waited the night . I could go home !
In a wheelchair on my way out , I glanced at some of the other kids in the rooms . Some children were in their beds , wrapped in gowns and connected
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