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Wednesday, August 25, 2010

I had been in the doctor’s office for the better part of an hour. I sat waiting for a diagnosis that I hoped would disprove my suspicions, yet I was ready to take it. After all, working in a biochemical plant is like playing the disease lottery. Even so, it came as a jolt of surprise when the doctor reported that an abnormal tumor was growing within my right arm and the arm might have to be amputated. However, he encouraged calm as I waited for the MRI results to return. Just as I thought, the doctor came out of his office with a grave look on his face. I walked over to him. “Did it come back positive?” The doctor just nodded gravely.

Two days later it was time for surgery. I laid spread eagle on the metal table. The doctor pulled a painful looking needle from the tray beside me. “This will only hurt a bit and then you will fade to black…” The next second I was out cold.

When I came to, I expected to awake in a normal hospital bed with family and friends at my bedside. Instead, I saw various doctors and nurses in a state of panic. I could tell something was seriously wrong. Then the doctor said panicked in a low worried voice, “How does one amputate the wrong arm?!”
fin
new short story...

6 comments:

  1. yikes! oh my...this i would definitely be afraid of...lol

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  2. Irony at its best! Good stuff.

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  3. Yo. Good stories. Speaking of which, I never got to get a copy of the Alan Moore book from you. Lemme know if you'd like to trade or if I should get some cash ready!

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  4. short story,
    I thought it is you...

    well crafted.

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  5. I'd say this is disarming.
    Another imaginative piece.
    Grandfather Don

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