... realized is that that I haven't told you guys about my adventure in a hospital.

And because today I'm in a mood to tell some stories, I thought that I could entertain you with this for a few minutes.

You see, a few years back, just a few days after New Years eve I woke up with terrible pain in my stomach area.

Now, as any normal person would do, I just laid back all day and waited it out, thinking that I probably ate something bad.

And it DID go away for the rest of the day. But then, when the next morning started with about the same thing, I just had to go see a doctor.

So, I went on a visit to our family's doctor, hoping that she will give me some kind of pills or medication.

Well, I had no such luck.

The first thing that happened as soon as I got there was that my stomach ache intensified. In fact, it was so bad, the only thing I wished to do was to get down on my hands and knees and howling like a god damned dog.

Of course, no one else cared that I was dying in front of their eyes, so NOT A SINGLE PERSON let me in front of them to see the damned doctor. I guess it must have been my fault too, because I could have gone to the emergency room, but you must see that when I arrived here I still thought that it was just a stupid stomach bug.

Funny thing, cause when I soon managed to shuffle inside the cabinet the doctor asked a few questions, wrote me a note and told me to go to the ER.

Now, I was getting scared.

In my imagination ER was for those who were on the brink of death - I guess too many movies will do that to you. I had absolutely no idea what was happening, and the ER was also a few blocks from the family doctor's offices.

So while I walked there, the pain kinda went away.

Now let me tell you what happened at the ER.

The first thing was that I had absolutely no idea where EXACTLY was the ER, so I had to ask around in the building. Everyone was kinda surprised that I'm wondering there alone, without seemingly having any problems.

But then, I finally found the room and walked inside. I told the lady there that I had terrible stomach ache, and the first thing she did was to point me to a bed in the office. Now, I went in there, and drew the curtains around it, because by this time the pains were back.

It was so bad, I didn't even care that my shoes were on the pillows and my head was on the other side. "Fuck that!" I thought, as I was trying to breath like one of those silly would-be mothers on TV who were just about ready to give birth.

The doctor to whom I told my problems didn't really seem to care about me. While I suffered there, an ambulance brought in an old man who had some kind of itches from diapers or something - that was the only thing I could deduct from their talk behind the curtains, and apparently someone had some kind of car crash too, cause he was drunk or something.

I cursed my fate and the fact that it seemed those things were more important than me. You must realize, that for HOURS no one actually came to talk to me.

Then, after the drunkard walked out the door -ON HIS OWN TWO FEET- and the old guy was taken care of, the woman finally walked to my bedside.

"Oh, it hurts?" she asked.

"No" I wanted to tell her. "I was just pretending to die here FOR THE LAST FEW HOURS"

"Well" she said. "Let me call a doctor"

At this I was to relieved to actually care what the fuck she was saying. (Why the hell didn't she call a doctor if she didn't know what the hell this was till now?)

The doctor arrived soon - a handsome young guy who proceeded to send me off to another room so they could look at me.

Now, here the fun began.

There were two doctors here, and they hooked me up on a damned machine, then started to poke at me - RIGHT THERE, where it hurt the most.

I was like... "fuck, it hurts, it hurts, stop poking me, FUCK YOU". And they were like... "Oh, does it hurt here? Let's poke it again! Wheeeeee"

I was almost ready to piss myself from the pain when they started asking me some god damn crazy questions about pregnancy and stuff.

The funnies thing was that they looked at me kinda skeptically when I told them that no, I was not here  pretending to have a seizure, so I could get a free abortion or something. WHAT THE HELL?

"All right" they said. "Go back to the ER room"

"Well, thanks for god damn nothing" I thought, and went back to where I started. Here the woman who didn't seem to care about anything or anyone proceeded to take a pair of scissors and cut off my bracelets, than she showed a needle and a tube into my hand.

THEN some old guy came with a wheelchair and they told me to sit on it.

"What the hell?" I thought again - which seemed to become my motto in there. "I can walk, thank you!"

But no, apparently everyone who came to this place must be taken to their room in a wheelchair. Well, it was fucking humiliating, in my opinion. I have absolutely no idea why this is. Maybe someone can explain it to me?

Anyways, they brought me into a tiny room that had about six beds - all of them occupied by old women.

The room was so tiny, I barely had enough room to walk to my bed.

I quickly called mom and told here that they brought me in - and that they actually wanted me to stay there for the night. I didn't have ANYTHING with me - I haven't eaten all day, I was starving, and tired, and still in pain.

Then the doctor come in and gave me some kind of pills (FINALLY!) that took it all away. I could finally sit up and look around.

The women were- of course- discussing me. Apparently, they absolutely HAD to know why they brought me in, and every other gossip they could put their hands on.

I wasn't about to share much with some unknown people, so I answered them with short grunts and nods like a caveman.

Some kind of nurse walked in then, and told me to get undressed. The rules, of course, said that no one should be around here in their outside clothes. They even took away my shoes.

A few minutes later, when I was almost ready to give up and punch someone, another nurse came in and told me that I wasn't even supposed to be in that room. I had to gather up my things and walk to a whole new wing of the hospital.

Now, since I wasn't allowed to wear anything - not even my shoes, I was in a dilemma.

It was winter, after all, and running around barefoot on hospital corridors wasn't the best thing for my health.

There was luckily a woman, who realized my dilemma and she actually gave me her slippers, till my mom brought me some actual clothes.

I think, that was the first good thing that happened to me for quite a while.

Now, the nurse led me to my supposedly new room. This was a lot bigger than the last one - I could have even danced around in it if I wanted. It also had six beds, and besides one- right on the other side of the room - none others were taken.

Even that one that seemed to be occupied was now sitting around alone. I quickly called mom to tell her of the change of rooms, then just sat around my bed, being bored out of my mind.

Later on, the woman with whom I shared the room came back. She was a grandmotherly type, and I actually didn't mind that I wasn't alone this time. After we talked for a bit, it even turned out that she was Hungarian, so from then on we hit it off.

The next day - just about when I was having the best dreams- some new nurse stumbled in the room, and shouted us up. Apparently, 5 am was the best time for us to take our medication and start our day.

We had a couple of hours to get ready after that for the actual doctor to make his rounds. If I remember correctly, it was around 8 o'clock that he came around, and that is when we got or breakfast.

Well, at least that was supposed to be the time, but I didn't get any, because I had to go run some other tests.

Which, again took up all the morning, since I actually had to wait for a doctor to come with me so I could enter these laboratories without having to stay in line.

After that, nothing interesting happened for a while- until, that is, the doctor came back and told me that I had to go to another hospital.

Apparently the machines they poked me with weren't good enough, so I had to go to a place that had more modern and stronger ones. They also thought that I will have to go trough a procedure that went like this: they get me to drinks some awful solution, then they would show a tube of some kind down my throat that will then pulverize some kind of stone in me.

Well, let me tell you, that I wasn't too happy with this.

Again, without eating anything, we went over to the hospital we were told to go to. There we waited for HOUR, until someone finally marched up to us to take a look at the notes the people from this hospital gave us.

Here, I also watched someone shuffled into a room at a great speed, who then was given the treatment everyone is given when dying. Sadly, the defibrillator didn't work, and the guy died. (I deducted this, when I heard that beeping sound all movies have when someone dies)

Anyway, on a brighter note someone showed up after that. They looked at our papers, and promptly sent us to another place.

What a great joy, since in this new places we also had to wait a few hours, till the doctor who worked with the machines I needed, actually wondered in.

Now, this wasn't a particularly big problem for me - because, quite frankly, I didn't want anyone to show a tube down my throat.

But then she finally arrived and they hooked me up on a machine, so they could again poke me. This time I had the added joy of them telling me that I wasn't allowed to breathe in why they did that. Imagine someone pressing a cold, hard object against that spot from where all this pain comes from. Now imagine, not being able to lessen the pain with breathing.

Also, imagine that the first time they do this, you can't support it, and the test has to be repeated. Fuck my life.

Well, anyway, a little time after that the doctor came out and explained us, that there is nothing she could do. I was actually relieved that there won't be any tubes entering my mouth today - but then she told me that I had to go back to the first hospital for surgery. Bummer.

Of course, by the time we arrived back at this hospital, they took me out of the roster, so I didn't get any lunch.

By this time, two new women were also in the room. A younger one that had the same problem I had, and an old woman, who was shipped in this room after she spent a few days in an almost coma-like state, because she had complications with her surgery.

Now, I don't exactly remember how much time I spent there- but soon enough a nurse came in to give both the younger lady and me an enema treatment.

It wasn't exactly what someone would call 'fun'.

By this time I thought that I was done with tubes, but apparently I was mistaken. Well, at least it wasn't showed down my throat - not that having it stuffed into your ass was any more pleasurable.

I would've said 'fuck me' during the procedure, if I didn't think it totally inappropriate at that moment.

The lady beside me got hers before me, and I knew that soon enough I will be running to the bathroom as if a rocket was bursting trough my ass.

And then, the nurse told me that I should just walk around, with all that water sloshing around in me. This was actually not that bad - I even managed to do a little dancing around before I had the feeling that this won't end too well.

A was out the door and running to the bathroom with a speed that I think I never in my life reached before, or after. "Holy shit" I thought, when I went back in the room, where the others were still laughing their ass off. And wasn't that the right thing to think at that moment - cause as soon as I returned, I had to once again turn around and run for cover.

The next day- since my stomach was empty - was finally the big day.

Apparently the woman who was next to me had to be taken care of first, so I watched as she was given some kind of injection, than later on she was once again put in a wheelchair and sent off to a mysterious place.

Then, while she was gone a lady came in with a bunch of questions. The main things she wanted to know was if I was allergic to some kind of medication or not. Apparently she was to be the one who will put me asleep.

With gas.

Well, by this time my thoughts were actually running to "will I have some kind of near-death experience?"

The doctor came and went, then one of the nurses waltzed in to give me an injection. By this time they stuck so many needles in me, I was actually surprised that they could still find a place that was intact on me.

I had a suspicion that this injection must be some kind of drug so I stay all nice and calm before the surgery. And I did - when people ask me to this day if I was ever afraid of it, I will most assuredly answer it with a NO, because the only thing I wanted was to finally be back in my own bed. And probably, because I was high as fuck.

Well, when the guy with the wheelchair came around I wen't without question. I think I grinned at anyone whom we came across of - there were visitors on the corridors-, as if nothing interesting was going to happen. I even kinda enjoyed the ride...

Then the guy brought me into a hospital wing, that to me appeared like it was abandoned.

You know those creepy ass corridors in movies where all kinds of pipes run off somewhere, where there is barely any lighting, and where there are all kinds of abandoned looking furniture and machines lying around? Well, it was something like that.

The guy left me to sit around on a bed outside a door, and wait till someone comes to get me.

I was probably humming some weird song when a doctor told me that I should go in there, drop my clothes and lie down on the table.

This was a bit weird - why did they bring me here with a wheelchair, and then made me do this on my own in the last twenty meters? (Note, that I was still grinning like a loon)

Well, to my utter indifference I did just that - even when there were at least twenty people inside that room (probably students).

The woman who earlier asked me those questions came around and talked with the others, then a girl came around to stick some new needles in me.

Of course, she didn't find my veins, so a few other students tried it - without any care that they were messing up my hands. Those needles danced around inside me like there was no tomorrow, until the doctor decided that it was probably enough of the torture scene and came to resolve the issue on her own.

She stuck it in me in two seconds.

Oh, I nearly forget the best part of it.

All the time they did this, I was tied down to the bed. I'm not kidding, ladies and gentlemen. Imagine this.

See that picture? Now that is what it looked like for me. Only, with more light coming from the ceiling. 

Then the doctor placed the gas mask thingy on me. For a few minutes nothing really interesting happened - besides the fact that they actually put some kind of music on- then I guess I must have gone to sleep. 

The last thing I remember was "Oh. My. God. Scrubs" 

Now, I can almost imagine the doctors rocking their ass off as some weird guy poked around inside me. 

Now, before I finish this off, there are a couple more things I have to tell you guys about. 

The first thing is that waking up wasn't exactly a good experience. I remember that I woke up for only a couple of minutes (seconds?) at a time before falling asleep again. 

The first time I did this, I actually called my mom that I was out the surgery. I think at this time I was still under the effects of the drugs (and the gas). Then, the next time I woke up, feeling as if someone was ripping my heart out. 

It turns out, it was just the gas they filled my body with, so they could get to the part they wanted without any more of my... uhm... parts? being in the way. 

Having that gas leaving your body is NOT pleasurable. Especially if it has to leave trough your upper body's skin. 

Then, I woke up to the sound of vomiting from the other bed - apparently my roomy was back too. I remember thinking that no way I will vomit, then going back to sleep. 

The next time I was woken by the doctor and the nurses. They told me it was god damn time to stop lazying around and I had to get up and walk around. 

I remember that they accompanied me to the bathroom, where I told them that I was pretty damn tired, and I was going to sleep. Right then and there. 

The next thing I woke up to was that I was sleeping on the ground of the bathroom, with a bunch of nurses, mom, and the wheelchair guy trying to wake me up. No, I did NOT vomit. Fainting? Yes. Vomiting? No, sir. 

I think I slept trough the night that day, and the next one I was already able to walk around a bit. There was a disgusting bag attached to my body that gathered the blood and other stuff that needed to be gathered after the surgery, so I had to bring it with me wherever I went. 

And I actually had no other option but to walk, because every day a couple of times they hooked me up to a drip, and the stuff they gave me trough it made me want to pee all day. 

That day the old women who had the problems with her surgery finally got a call from home. I remember that every single one of us listened in, and we all tried not to laugh at her discussion. You have no idea how weird it was that every time you laughed, the stitches in you made you also hiss in pain. 

Let me tell you how the conversation went... 

Granddaughter: When are you coming home, grandma? 
Grandmother: Soon, hun, as soon as I can fart. 
Granddaughter: Well, grandma, then fart already, it isn't that hard. I even farted a couple of times since we are on this phone. 

Oooooh, fart jokes. They make the world go 'round...

Anyways, That night the nurse came in again, asking us if we want some sleeping medication. I raised my hands at this, expecting to get a pill. 

Well, what I got was NOT a pill. 

They gave me the medication intravenously, trough the drip needle (Yes, this needle was stuck in me all  trough these days, without it ever coming out). 

It was as if someone had hit me with a hammer. I think I even called out fearfully to mom, not knowing what the hell was happening to me. 

You see, I never guessed that this kind of medication worked this fast. I was ready to wait for at least half an hour, and then maybe to feel a little drowsy. That's not what happened. 

I think I was more afraid in that moment, than from the whole surgery. I was actually expecting to die. Not kidding here. 

I  think that they should have warned me at least. 

The next day I awoke with a headache of the size of the universe. I think that must have been the way junkies feel when they come off their high. "Never again" I promised to myself then. 

Anyways, I still consider this as a pretty cool adventure. Especially the times I ran around the corridors with my disgusting little bag stitched to my side, to the horror of innocent visitors. 

And why do I consider it 'cool'? Well, even if some people complain about how bad the hospitals and the healthcare is in this country, I still managed to get trough it. I also think that I learned a few things I never even thought about before. 

Do you know that saying that "In the future we will look back at this and laugh"? Well, I think this is one of those moments.