The Patient

I was sitting in the chair, wide eyed.

I didn’t inhale any of the anesthesia. Not by choice, it wasn’t connected properly.

It was better this way. I wanted to see what he was doing.

“Is all this necessary?” I asked him.

“Oh yes,” he said and laughed.

“Remind me again, why?” I asked.

“To help you heal.”

“Heal from what, exactly?” I asked.

“All that pain you’re in. It could be a pinched nerve or broken bone,” he said.

“I’m not in any pain,” I said bluntly.

“You will be, once the painkillers wear off. Trust me,” he said, smiling fiendishly.

He grabbed a surgical knife and thrust it into me.

I felt every bit of pain as he moved the knife down my stomach.

I had not swallowed what he called pain killers, because I recognized the bottles. They were sleeping pills, and he wanted to give me enough to cause an elephant to overdose.

“You don’t have to do this,” I shouted, my stomach swelling with blood.

“Hush now, helpless one. I’m saving your life,” he said and smiled.

He then put duck tape over my mouth.

“You’re not helping,” I tried to mumble to no avail.

“Sorry, I can’t hear mumblers. You’re going to have to speak up,” he said and smiled.

He put his hands inside my stomach. The pain was excruciating. I almost passed out. I kept trying to scream, the duck tape making it difficult.

He removed one of my organs, then put it back.

He removed my spleen and liver before putting them back.

He tapped my rib cage above my heart. I prayed he didn’t remove that.

He took a hammer and started pounding my ribs until I heard one crack.

“I can fix your broken heart, don’t worry,” he said.

I don’t know how I managed to stay awake through the pain.

I managed to get a leg loose and kick him away.

“Fine, no heart surgery for you today. You’re a bad boy,” he said and smiled.

He squeezed my rib cage, and again I tried to scream. It did me no good.

There was pounding on the door. It must have been one of the nurses.

Thank god. Maybe she could help.

“No. You’re interrupting my surgery,” he shouted.

The pounding on the door got louder.

I hoped whomever it was could get past the locks.

A loud final thud hit the door and it swung open.

“No, get out! I must finish the surgery, it’s for Dr. Kleevers extreme pain,” he said.

“Freeze! Move and we shoot,” a man shouted. Thank god, it was the police.

They tackled Jenson to the ground, handcuffed him, then untied me and took the duck tape off my face.

“Don’t hurt him, he’s my delusional patient. I gave him walking privileges outside his cell, I thought he was better. He snuck up behind me, claimed he was the doctor, not me. He knocked me out and tied me up,” I explained.