This past May, Army of Awesome People issued a challenge on our Facebook page. Submit your blog post idea as a headline and we would write a post based on your submission. We did not anticipate, however, that you would respond. Turns out, we weren’t up to the challenge and decided to ignore your ideas. However, last night I was visited by three ghosts who… well I don’t want to bore you with a sidebar here, but needless to say I’ve decided to answer your call because those ghosts, they really got nasty, I mean… Sorry, again with my tangent. Anyway, this headline idea was comes to us from Martha Cecilia Cox (who happens to be awesome you should check out her blog here) Her headline – “Rebelling against my hospital gown…”
I had been in bad need of an appendix transplant and on Tuesday, I got the word I had been waiting for. I finally had a donor.
Despite concerns from my critics who complained that the surgery was unnecessary and that any sort of rush on the operation was a waste of resources, I had the organ flown in via med-flight.
As the nurse was prepping me for the operation she handed me a gown.
“Here put this on,” she instructed.
The gown was light green and covered in polka dots.
“I can’t wear this,” I tried handing the gown back to her.
“Why not?” She asked.
“The doctors aren’t going to take me seriously in this,” I replied. “I don’t need them laughing and making fun of me during surgery and then I wake up and they’ve replaced the wrong organ.”
“These are the gowns all of our patients wear,” the nurse assured me. “Our doctors take things very seriously.”
As she was talking, my physician entered the room.”
“Timothy…” he began.
“Doctor, our patient here is concerned you aren’t going to take him seriously in this hospital gown.” the nurse tattled.
“Ohhh that’s nothing to be concerned about,” the doctor said, making me feel reassured for a quarter of a second but then he started laughing. “Ha, ha.”
I shot the doctor a fearful stare.
That night I couldn’t sleep. Every time I dozed off, I envisioned a team of surgeons gathered around me, ridiculing me, accidentally making incorrect incisions because they were more focused on thinking up their next joke than properly performing the procedure.
But what? What could I wear that would inspire seriousness, awe even?
I considered draping myself with the American flag.
But then the doctors would certainly waste time, pledging allegiance to my gown. Burning it maybe if it touched the ground.
What about camouflage? The doctors would pull back my blanket and be like ‘whoa, this guy’s ready for action.’
But that’s no good either. My torso might blend in with my surroundings and they might mistakenly think I’m just a head, arms and legs.
I began to panic, when, suddenly, I heard a voice.
“I know what it’s like being ashamed of my gown.” I looked up. It was Cinderella.
“Cinderella,” I said. “I must be hallucinating.”
“That’s rude!” she replied. “I’m trying to make you feel better! I know you’re embarrassed about your gown. Imagine how embarrassed I was when that fairy godmother changed my dress into that gown. It was awful!”
“That’s not how the story goes,” I replied.
“You‘re just not remembering it right” she shot back. “Anyway, you know the rest, it ended up being successful because I went to the ball anyway, and when it was through, boom, successful heart transplant!”
“What?” I asked, confused.
Suddenly, I awoke. It was all a dream. The surgery was over and I was surrounded by a team of doctors.
“Timothy,” one of them said. “Glad you’ve come to. Everything went well. Now it’s just a matter of….” he smirked, “keeping the gown on for a few days.
The entire team of doctors started laughing hysterically and high-fiving.
I looked down to see the doctors had replaced my green polka-dotted gown with a pink and purple gown.
“What the…” I exclaimed in horror. “What about the surgery?!”
The doctors quit laughing. Their faces drawing fearful.
“Crap, the surgery!” the chief surgeon exclaimed.
I looked down to the cooler where the appendix was stored. It immediately exploded.
The doctors all grimaced, slowly backed out of the room and ran away.
And that’s why you should always rebel against your hospital gown.