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I had a terrible stomach ache when I was 16. Started hurting around noon. I didn’t like making a big deal, so I just dealt with it all day, mostly doubled over, then went to bed.

After a sleepless night I finally mentioned it to my mom. Turned out to be a gangrenous appendix that was ready to burst.

Like I said: no big deal.

In those days the surgery was a bit more involved than it is today. They cut a bit more, plus they left a rubbery tube sticking out of your stomach so the wound could drain.

I hated that tube. Hated it. It felt like there was an alien growing out of my stomach. It stuck out about an inch, so I figured maybe there was a half inch inside of me.

After four days the surgeon came into my hospital room to finally remove it. I was overjoyed. Until he began pulling.

And pulling.

And pulling.

By the time he was done there were 12 inches worth of bloody rubber tubing laying next to a gaping hole in my belly. Things got hazy and I almost tossed my lunch, so I just closed my eyes and took deep breaths.

“Stay in bed until you settle down,” were the instructions offered.

So naturally, as soon as the surgeon walked out I hopped out of bed. I just had to let my Grandmother hear the good news. The tube was gone!

Wrapped my gown closed behind me as tightly as I could and, rolling the IV stand along, strolled down the hall about 40 feet, then made a left to the elevator, where there was a pay phone on the opposite wall.

I dropped a dime and dialed (literally). Gram picked up and I told her the news. She started to ask questions when I suddenly realized that the wall the phone was attached to was slowly moving. Up.

I asked Gram to hold on but realized I no longer had the phone in my hand. Then I went to sleep. Then the IV pole landed on my stomach and my head hit the marble floor and I woke up. Then I went back to sleep.

I was dreaming about worms and snakes when I heard some guy, far in the distance say, “What are you doing?” accompanied by the toe of his shoe prodding my side. The guy must have been really concerned about me.

I got off the floor, straightened the IV, and held on to the wall for a moment before making my way back to my room.

“I just felt like staring at the ceiling,” I told him.

“Wise ass,” he said.

I walked unsteadily down the hallway, then collapsed onto my bed. I waited for the room to stop spinning, then rang for Gloria, the nurse.

I told her what had happened, but she didn’t believe me. Probably because I actually was a wiseass for the entire four days I spent laying there.

Always trying to be funny. Never offering a straight answer. Gloria always insisted I be serious; so now I was basically crying wolf. Gloria just stared at me for a few seconds, then turned around and left.

When my mother came for her daily visit a couple of hours later, she was upset that I had hung up on my Grandmother. What was I thinking?

I kept quiet; if I told her what had actually happened, she would have gone nuts. I just wanted to go home.

The next day, I was finally scheduled to be released. The surgeon came by for a final check up; Gloria, my nurse, was with him.

“What happened here?” he asked, when he noticed the large lump in the back of my head.

My nurse’s eyes opened wide. And her face turned a bit red.

And so we come to a critical juncture in the career of young nurse Gloria. Young, because even though she was twice my age at the time, she was not even half my current age.

Do I take Gloria’s advice, and respond in a mature and truthful manner, thus putting her nursing career in instant jeopardy for ignoring a patient? Or do I continue to act like a wisenheimer? Hmmm…

“Oh, that?” I responded. “I’m growing a new head. In case I get tired of the old one.”

Gloria looked at the doctor and smiled. He called me a wise ass and signed my release form. Then Gloria gave me a wink and left the room.