It's been awhile since I've posted on here. In light of my recent events and multiple visits to the hospital, I've had a lot to think about. No, the problem isn't resolved completely, I still have to go for weekly blood tests. But I wanted to share something far more disturbing that happened during my emergency surgery a little over three weeks ago.
I'm finally ready to talk about it.
Even though it still bothers me on a highly emotional level.
During the surgery, while I was knocked out cold, the surgeons...Stole my panties. I know, I know. It took me awhile to even notice. You see, when I woke up about six hours after the surgery, I was still so groggy that it didn't occur to me to check if anything other than my life was still intact. I woke up, realized I was alive, and breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't until about twelve hours after the surgery that I realized what had happened.
My black cotton panties, a favorite pair of mine, were no longer on me. Instead, what I found was this horrendous piece of white net that my nurse called "The Spiderman Panties". WTF? Where the hell were the panties I was wearing when I went in to surgery?! I knew they would take them off, the surgery was the kind that happened down there, but I kinda expected to wake up with them waded into a ball on my night stand. Not GONE! I looked, I swear I did. Even in my pain pill induced state, staggering around like a new foal on wobbly legs, I checked every drawer and nook and cranny for my panties. I loved those panties.
In the end, traumatized by the event, I had to come home without them. Later that afternoon I pulled my underwear drawer open and explained to the five other pairs that look just like it that one of their brethren had fallen in combat. We've been mourning ever since. I think even my purple panties are disturbed. Now, every time I go to the doctor, I can't find a pair of those either. The only ones that appear in my drawer on doctor days are the damn white ones... ~ D. F. Krieger