The Three Amigos: A Short Story
We’ll let you sleep and see you again, later today,” said Dr. King. “Ok,” I mumbled, too tired to say much else. I slept.
I woke several hours later when a nurse came and checked on me. She also instructed me on how to use the pain pump. “Any questions,” she asked when she was done explaining.
“Yes,” I said after I had ran my hands across my mummified wrapped upper torso, which my breasts felt like they were about to explode out of. “Why am I swelling,” I asked?
“You just had surgery.” The nurse replied, nonchalantly.
“I’ve had surgery before and I’ve never swollen like this before.” I snapped exhausted, using more energy than I had readily available for use.
“Did you ask your doctors?” The nurse asked me.
“No, I just noticed it.” I barked in a whisper.
“I’ll call your doctors and have them come back and take a look at you.” The nurse said.
The Three Amigos came a few hours later, I supposed it was because I was in- and-out of it. I summoned up some energy and asked my question, but could only open one eye while doing so. With that one eye I searched the tri-sets for an answer.
“Why are you looking at us with only one eye?” Dr. King asked