My surgeon didn’t notice a thing. Neither did the residents standing behind him. The room should have looked as though a tornado had ripped through it. Everyone’s hair should have been blown about. Some of the residents should have been dead, dashed violently against the battered walls. Instead, they all stood there smiling pleasantly at me, studying me, taking in my details, yet missing the most vital ones. They’d all assumed I knew about my condition from the moment I woke up. But how could I have with all those hallucinations?
