5 Star Hospitalization

"Perfectly"
That's how the 3 1/2 hour surgical battle went, according to Dr. Screenwriter.

Our heroine awoke from a delightful anesthetic nap, totally woozy and newly weighed down by a black and silver columnar cage going around and through her right leg.

Yesterday consisted mostly of the Amazing One-Legged Girl attempting to 1) keep her eyes open 2) complete sentences.

She frequently failed at both, sometimes falling asleep mid-gesture and awaking with a start; a sense of urgency; and addressing someone not present in the room (for example, attempting to clear a piece of food from the face of a friend only to realize that she is sitting next to her mother and combing the air). Hospitals and anesthesia bring on all sorts of spectacles, some real, some imagined. When a tall, bald, Russian named Boris comes to take your blood, stating in a thick accent "I vont the blooood. Vere's the blooood?" One can't help but but envision him floating outside your window, with fangs and a black cape. Thank you anesthesia and Dilaudid.

Her post-operative meal consisted of steak, steamed veggies, and carrot cake, during which she fell asleep mid-chew, not because the food was boring, but because she could not control her eyelids. Steak has been a choice on the menu for every meal since. Thank you Texas.

She now has a device with four black metal rings connected to 18 silver wires that go through her skin and stabilize the bone. And she is recouping in a hospital that has a steady supply of Haagen-Dazs and, thanks to MRSA, has her own room with a dress code (hospital workers must wear gloves and unsightly yellow gowns in order to gain access). All a hospital needs to make a stay luxurious: decent food; sheets and blankets that feel like, well sheets and blankets, not dishtowels; cable TV; and a pain pump for the patient (delivering sweet sweet meds every 8 minutes with the simple push of a button).


Her Mysterious Bearded Companion accompanied her on yet another great adventure, facilitating the pre-surgery dance party, stealing ice cream and laughing at the 6am oddities of the pre-operation area.

While the device on her leg may feel like it weighs 26lbs, it really only measures to about 5lbs. And she felt the full weight of it bright and early this morning during her first Physical Therapy session.

Ladies and gentleman, she defeated all fear, proved herself capable of crutching with steady certainty, still hooked up to all her IVs.

Thereby rejected the godforsaken bedpan for the use of a proper toilet.

Another small victory for the Amazing One-Legged Girl.