Adventures in The Twilight Zone

The Old Man recently returned from time-traveling back to an earlier era.  Surgery under deep anesthesia allows for visits to some interesting places in the company of a variety of characters that Rod Serling in his heyday would be hard pressed to dream up.

I'm presently recuperating  from a spinal fusion involving cages, rods, screws, and even some bone matter, involuntarily donated by an unknown person who now flies in other skies.  My friend, Jay, had a knee repaired several years ago using cadaver bone, and I'm convinced that it was from some dead world-class golfer since he now can hit the ball a gazillion yards.  Maybe I'll be able to sing opera, but considering my usual luck with things of chance, I'll probably have to have words of more than 5 letters explained to me.

Here's what I recall of my adventure.
I have heard rumors that there is indeed a time on the clock of 5:30 A. M., but have mostly been successful, until now, of not confirming that depressing fact.  By 5:45, my dignity took a hit and I had to put on a dress.  They gave me a blanket and when I remarked I wasn't cold, they said, "Yes, but you seem to be pretty unaccustomed to wearing a dress, so.............

Wonderful friends came and had prayer with us, and then it was "post time".  Down the hall to be prepped, by now, paranoid about holding my blanket, we sailed into a room with other folks scrambling to manage their blankets as various people scurried about, or sipped coffee, or just quietly chatted.  I don't recall any of these folks names, but I'll call them something just for clarity.

Renfield said, "Now I'm going to set up your IV connection so we won't have to keep sticking you".  Good plan.  A minute or two after Ren's "stick and little burn", I heard him say, "Well, we didn't get the vein".  "We?"  I chanced a glance and my hand was dripping like a bag of blood worms that had been shot with a 12 gauge.    Let me guess, Rennie, "another stick and burn, right?".  This time "we" dead centered the little fellow.

I figured we'd use my new-found portal to add some type of goof-ball concoction to make things seem a little calmer.  I asked Renfield about this since my insides were jumping around like a Chihuahua who'd just lapped up 2/3 can of Red Bull if now was when they would give me a "little something" to say "down boy".  "We don't do that any more", he said.  "Seems people would forget that their doctor had been by to talk to them prior to surgery, so we had to quit".

Oh crap

I began to look around the room.  There were other people in various stages of "delight".  One lady was telling how this was her 4th back surgery, another was simply staring at the ceiling like a convict awaiting the governor to call the warden, and one guy was sound asleep with his tongue kind of hanging out the corner of his mouth, sort of like those old western movies where the cows were laying around the poison water hole.  In the meantime, the Chihuahua had finished the Red Bull and was  not content just to sit and nibble.

My doctor came by and had a short conversation with me, and as he walked away,  old Renfield either put a "little something" in my IV line or hit me in the head with a tire iron.

Next time:  The spaceship lands