Thursday, March 6, 2014

The Procedure

              The tall woman grabbed her tool and sliced my stomach wide open. I tried to distract myself, but the trembling of my body forced me back into reality. The blinding light above my head flickered. A man quickly pressed the plastic piece firmly over my mouth and nose. Several people dug inside my body. All I could feel was pressure; yet, there was nothing I could do to stop them. My arms and legs were bound with tight, scratchy straps. But, in my head, I was ecstatic.

                A few moments earlier, a gang of people flooded into my small, cramped room. They barked for me to remove my clothing and insisted I put on their ugly garments. Unfamiliar faces anxiously poked my skin with sharp needles before they shoved my body from side to side. Two women grabbed my feet and forcefully tugged tight nylon socks over them. My only choice was to submissively lie there as they treated me like a piece of meat. When they were finished, they yanked my bed out of the room and into a long hallway. The screeching of the squeaky bed wheels echoed off of the pale walls. They carted me into an enormous white room full of beeping machines and strangers wearing gloves.

                A small woman pulled me up into a sitting position. She motioned for a man to come over. He muttered a few words as he smeared an ice-cold solution on my back. He proceeded to cover the area with plastic. Meanwhile, the lady squeezed my hand and pulled me closer. My back started to sting before I felt the pop in my spine. They lowered me down on top of the uncomfortable needle that now rested in between my vertebras. Soon, I could no longer feel the lower half of my body. The man started to jab a needle into my abdomen. Each time, he cruelly asked if I could feel it. Several silent moments passed by. The strangers tended to their machines and took notes. Suddenly, a tall, dark-haired woman burst into the room with a familiar face trailing behind her.   

                My heart skipped a beat when I noticed him. He wore the same ugly garments they forced me to wear. His hair remained hidden underneath the bouffant hairnet. Even though the cloth surgical mask covered his mouth, his happy, stretched smile was obvious. Within seconds, he appeared by my side. His warm hand gripped mine as he lovingly gazed into my eyes. I watched a small bead of sweat roll down his face. He hid his worry well.

                After they strapped my body down and checked their instruments, they signaled for the start of the procedure. The machines squealed in delight. The room filled up with the stench of burning flesh. I clenched my fists once they broke through my abdominal wall. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor became dwarfed by the vigorous shaking of my body. In the reflection of the light fixture, I could see them digging around. I shifted my attention back into the eyes of the familiar face above me.

                Then, the moment I was waiting for had arrived. The tiny whines of a small voice filled the room. The man next to me tried to look around the drape to get a peak. One of the strangers motioned for him to do his job. After he was done, they carried a miniature body across the room to a warming station. Several people handled the tiny person and wrapped him in blanket. The familiar man blissfully strolled back to me. He leaned over so I could see the handsome little face. A stranger released the straps from my arms. After nine long months, I finally had the chance to hold my baby boy in my arms. It was one of the best days of my life.