An endless stream of ceiling tiles flow by punctuated by light fixtures, vents, and sprinkler heads. There is the occasional cracked tile and yes, the occasional duct tape. The morphine makes it interesting, and it occurs to me that until now I’ve only had this particular view of the world by seeing it on TV or in movies.
The doctor drew a funny drawing and tried to explain what was wrong using plain language. I repeated it back to him using the appropriate anatomical and medical terms and he said “oh, so you know the words, that makes it easier.”
When things have worn off or I feel less like throwing up, I’ll tell you the details. For now, let me just say that I have three patellas. You’re supposed to have only one.