My hospital room had a sweet and calming view, 24/7. No view is swell enough to make a person want to stay in even the finest of hospitals, however. From the first moment I arrived, all I wanted to do was get out. On the 6th day of my stay, the doctors shut down my epidural, so I could get used to the pain I would be feeling for the near future. In a matter of hours, my torso went from being numb and number to being on fire with blazing pain. It was not fun. My belly was a hunk, a hunk o’ burnin’ OUCH. I did manage to eat a hospital last supper of Cardiac French Toast, which I liked more because of its name than its taste. And on the 7th day, I put on my pajamas and an orange spider/white spiderweb Bow Tie o’ the Day, and then I high-tailed it for home as fast as Suzanne’s car could take us.
