Light of my Life

This is why I don’t snack before bed.

Posted on: March 2, 2008

Last night I had what must have been one of my most bizarre dreams ever.

I was with my parents, and something bad happened to me. I don’t remember what. But my dad told me that if I wanted to live, I would definitely need emergency open heart surgery, a surgery so risky and dangerous that I probably wouldn’t survive anyway. I ran to my computer and started composing emails to all my friends and family, asking them to pray for me.

Then since my dad used to work for the surgery department at the local university and was actually made an “honorary surgeon” at one point (this is true, and he loves to remind us!), he called them to set everything up for me. I didn’t even have to see a doctor beforehand, I guess they just took him at his word. Actually it turns out I didn’t have to see a doctor at all, because when I arrived for my surgery, I found out my surgeon would be… Bobby Flay! (This is what I get for watching Throwdown before bed!)

Somehow, having a famous chef for a surgeon didn’t make me the least bit nervous. But I was a little nervous about the fact that nobody checked me in at the hospital, nobody prepped me, nor was I put on a gurney or even in a wheelchair. Bobby just came to me and said “Let’s go,” and we walked together to the operating… uh… area. It wasn’t a room, it was outside. There was a table in the grass. Bobby had me sit on the table, and after reiterating that I probably wouldn’t survive this dangerous procedure, he began to operate. I said, “Wait, don’t I need some anesthesia or something?” He assured me that I would be fine, and to his credit, I didn’t feel any pain. He put some sort of a clip on my lip which looked something like a jumper cable. It made me loopy and dizzy, and I didn’t feel any of the surgery. It seemed to be over in a flash! When he was done, he took the clip off my lip and sort of shook me awake. I said, “Is that it? That’s the surgery that was potentially going to kill me?” He shrugged and said, “Oh, I don’t know, I’m no good at that stuff.” “At surgery?” I exclaimed, alarmed. But he quickly reassured me that he was great at surgery, just not at judging how well patients would recover afterward. Oh. Well. What a relief.

Again, I got no gurney, no wheelchair. Despite having just had major surgery, I had to walk back to my hospital room. They must have been really busy, because the room was packed. There were several other patients sharing the space, and they’d all brought plenty of visitors. At least 10 people were sitting on my bed. And someone had brought some pet rabbits, which were scurrying all over the place. When one of them bit me in the back, that was the last straw; I was fed up. What kind of hospital was this? I left the room, found my mom, and complained about the lousy service here. All I wanted was to go home and be in my own bed, in peace.

And then I was. I woke up soaked in sweat and freezing cold. Everything still felt so real that I almost wanted to feel my chest for the scar. I didn’t, though; instead I snuggled under the covers and after a few minutes finally felt warm again. Soon I drifted into a blissful, dreamless sleep… until I had to get up 15 minutes later. Bah, humbug.

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About Me


I'm Erin, a 32-year-old homeschooling mother of three, doing my best to raise my children in the Catholic faith... (more)

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