May 22, 2012

My dearest,

You are still sleeping, rather soundly considering the uncomfortable-looking single ward bed, when the nurse comes in to check on you.

“Has he woken up?” she asks.

“Once but mostly he just sleeps. Can he eat something when he wakes up? He’s been fasting since last night because of the operation,” I say.

“Yes, but nothing hot or spicy. Something cold is better.”

“Cold?”

“Yes, like ice-cream. He can have ice-cream.”

Who’s ever heard of a patient eating ice-cream, or a nurse encouraging that, for that matter? Maybe I heard her wrongly or misunderstood. I asked again, “Are you sure you mean ice-cream?”

“Yes, ice-cream. It’s good for his throat. It will cool it down,” the nurse assured me.

I still wasn’t convinced. (Or perhaps I was just a tad envious. Ice-cream!) “Maybe I can get him something else?” I suggested.

“No, I want ice-cream!”

The nurse and I turn around. You’ve woken up. You still look groggy but adamant also (as much as a patient whose anaesthesia is barely wearing off could look adamant).

“I want ice-cream,” you repeat. “Something with peanut butter.”

This is so unfair. I never got to have ice-cream when I see the doctor. Some devils have all the luck.

Yours, ever and always.