White, cork ceiling tiles, metal rods and starched cotton. As she was slowly wheeled down the hallway, which is much more surreal feeling when you're the one laying, she tried counting the tiles above her. "How many tiles between my room to the surgery room?"- a thought.
Heart surgery. She was less than thrilled. So invasive. And how did she know he was a good surgeon? How did she know if he was going to do his best today? He didn't know how special she was, how much her life was worth living.
She saw the doors ahead. Not intimidating.
But the ceilings were. As she was pulled into the room, the ceiling became higher, much darker and very ominious.
"That's a mood killer"- a thought.
Now presently on her new bed, her surgery bed, nurses began piling her with blankets and crowding around. One nurse was fiddling with the IV, another fliting around some other crazy alien medical contraption.
She looked around for the man who would cut her open. "He must be glowing"- a thought.
No glowing anywhere...
"Who's my doctor?"- a question.
"That would be me, miss"- he smiled and said it in that way that you know he's a chummy doctor, but probably really good.
"You're cutting me open tonight. That's so freaking scary for me to think about. I can't imagine what it looks like; what I look like...inside. It's crazy. Just...be careful." And she paused,"You'll be the first to touch my heart."
He looked down at her, one side of his face darkly shaded and the other over lighted from that one white doctor light over head. She watched him pull back a gulp or grimace, she smiled and so did he. The clear mask covered her nose and fuzzied her vision, but the images right before where burned in her mind. Forever. And she knew that now she'd become special- to him. And she worried no longer.
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