28 March 2006
that's why they call it a bedpan.
the vomit was green. dark green. and it smelled the like the worst bad breath you could ever have. like if you slept for three days solid and then woke up and went around smiling and laughing really close to people. (have you ever thought about sleeping beauty's breath? that guy had to kiss her, and she'd been sleeping for AWHILE! talk about morning breath! it'd be like decade breath!) anyway, it kept coming in little mouthfuls. just when it looked like it was over, there'd be more convulsing, more doubling over, and more mouthfuls of green goo.
she was a middle-aged woman, about 30 minutes out of surgery. the puker, i mean. she was a little nauseous. she was laying down on those little hospital beds on wheels, which is where i fit in: i was holding the pan she was puking in.
i finally got to work in the recovery part of surgery, and it was everything i hoped it would be. while i was holding the old puke pan, i was thinking how much the scene was exactly like what i'd hoped everything would be like. although the color of the vomit was completely optional. when she was ready to go back to her room, she said "gracias" and i stroked her hair and said "nada". it was pretty much perfect.