First Short Story: Halloween DNR
Read my first short story and enjoy. Halloween DNR by R. A. Holloway
Every year at Halloween my Grandmother retreats to the hospital. There is always some reason she must go in, but all the family knows it's because she hates Halloween. She cannot tolerate the yearly observance of goblins and ghouls ringing doorbells for candy. She just knows someone will rob her, or steal her cat, or egg her house, or do something far more nefarious in nature. So she chucks it all, and has another needless treatment or operation. When she comes out, she has yet another change in her appearance to mark the occasion. A tighter forehead, fuller lips, cuter nose, or some such modification. I always found it ironic that on the hated holiday where people put on masks and go around ringing doorbells for candy, she would go to the hospital for a new mask to camouflage her flaws. She may not go ringing doorbells for candy, but she certainly does like the attention she receives after her Halloween outings. Don't get me wrong, I am not criticizing my Grandmother because I love her dearly. I'm just commenting on the irony of the situation. Personally, I find it hilarious, and think she is the best.
This year, she has decided to go in for a peel. It is a chemical thing, and she is prepared to have a tender red face for a couple of days before she sees the great results. She has even invited others to join her for a peel on her. My mother flatly refused. She is against any kind of operation. This is probably a reaction to my Grandmother's many nips, tucks, lifts, and various suctions. I myself thought everyone should join in, and keep her company, and so I said, "Yeah mom, all the girls should go get a peel with Grandma. You can all sit there and look at your tomato red faces and commiserate with each other about the pain. And then remind each other how it will be worth it to look so much younger." "Ha, ha, ha," I laughed. Big mistake! For my comments, I received a free peel. That's right. This year on Halloween, instead of indulging myself with decadent chocolate treats and scoping out all the cool costumes, I will be in the hospital receiving a painful chemical peel! I have been mandated to go with Grandma for a peel, thanks to my mother and my big mouth.
Well the night has finally arrived. "Yippee" I say in a glum voice. "Grandma and I are going to the hospital for a chemical peel." My only good thoughts are that at least the torture is free. Tomorrow, when I go to school with a red face, I'll just tell my pals it is a reaction to some face paint. God forbid that my friends should find out that I went to the hospital for a face peel with my Grandma! I would never live it down. I am generally a humorous kind of guy, but that is mostly because of other people's foils and foibles, not my own. Dad thinks it's hilarious. Every time he has looked at me in the past few days, since I opened my big fat mouth, he laughed out loud. It's been humiliating, and I can hardly wait until the whole ordeal is over!
It's 6:00 P.M. on Halloween, and time for us to head over to the hospital. My Grandmother's doctor has given us a check-in time of 7:00 P.M. I'm still thinking about dad laughing at me. Maybe once he sees my red face, he'll stop laughing. Then again, maybe he'll just laugh all the harder. "Oh well, it'll soon be over," I say to myself as we leave for the hospital. As we drove to the hospital, Grandma said, "Well John, perhaps we can make it a date to do this, or something similar every year." Her comment actually frightened me into a stunned silence. "Someone please help me." I screamed inside. I have gotten in over my head. I can only hope that mom hates these procedures so much that she won't force me into any more. One thing's for sure, I will never make comments like those again without thinking! I made that pledge to myself, and I fully intend to keep it.
When we arrived Grandma was prepared for a full-face Phenol peel which would take between one and two hours. I, on the other hand, opted for a light peel. How bad could it be? I get sunburned every spring playing baseball. This can't be that bad. "No big deal." I told myself. We would both spend the night in the hospital, and I would drive Grandma home tomorrow morning. "No sweat. I can do this." I said.
Grandma's doctor must have sensed that I was feeling some discomfort because he tried to put me at ease. He said, "Well son it's not often that I encounter grandsons that share their grandmother's interests." He certainly did put everyone else at ease. This I know because everyone laughed at me. I kind of had to laugh, too, though, when I thought about it from their point of view. "Well then let's get this show on the road." I said. Since my peel would only take about 15 minutes, of course, they were going to begin with me. The nurse came in, and then, she actually asked whether we wanted to be resuscitated should an emergency occur! I am now officially terrified. "What kind of emergency could possibly occur during a facial peel? Can my face melt off?" I asked, as I gasped in terror. Why in the world would they ask such a ridiculous question? Unless.... My mind began working over time. My breath came in big gulps. All of a sudden, I couldn't catch my breath. The doctor gave me a bag and instructed me to breathe in and out of it slowly.
He explained that it was only hospital policy and everyone who had any procedure done had to decide whether to sign a DNR, a Do Not Resuscitate form. "A DNR! Good God! This is getting too intense for me. I am just a kid. How did I get myself into this mess?" I spat at my Grandmother and her doctor. They laughed and told me to calm down.
"What could possibly happen?" my Grandmother asked. "I think it's so funny that every year I sign saying 'should there be any emergency please do not resuscitate me.' After all, who wants to walk around with the type of face one would end up with should there be a real emergency? Why, it would be like living Halloween every day? Wouldn't it?" she queried.
I was aghast. What, I had once thought of as ironic, was now beyond believable. I was in some sort of Halloween Twilight Zone. Honestly, all I wanted to do was go home. However, my dad would never stop laughing at me if he found out I hyperventilated, and refused to go through with the peel. So I signed the DNR just like Grandma, and told them, "Okay, okay, let's get crackin."
You can't imagine the pain. They said, "Oh, don't worry most people only feel a brief burning sensation, followed by a feeling of numbness or stinging." What a big lie. I thought my face was melting off. I was so loud and so upset, the doctor finally gave me a shot. Now I was floating; floating, while my face was melting off. I could even see pieces dropping here and there. It was ghastly. But that was nothing compared to what I saw as they started working on my Grandma. I saw pieces of flesh drop off to the bone. That's right, I saw bones. They actually melted her face off to the bone. It took them hours to get down that far. But they did. I saw them put some Vaseline or something like it in place of her face. Boy was she going to be mad when she was resuscitated. I actually laughed and laughed, as I thought about her reaction when she realized she had no face, only bones, and that they had resuscitated her. I kept telling her doctor, "Boy, you better not resuscitate her. She's going to be mad at you."
Finally, we were taken to our room. I must have fallen asleep sometime between bouts of pledging never to open my big fat mouth again, worrying about my melting face, and laughing at Grandma's reaction to her bones. When I woke up my face was sore and red. Once I remembered what we had been through, I quickly looked over at my Grandmother to make sure she was okay. Honest to God, she looked just like I had described before, in place of her face, there was a mask of Vaseline hiding the bones. I was petrified that when she awoke she was going to be burning mad. As I laughed at my humorous pun, my Grandmother awoke.
The doctor came in just at that moment, and he explained that after a Phenol peel, she would need a pain medication, and he would prescribe a mild one to relieve any discomfort. He also explained that the Vaseline like substance was a waterproof adhesive that was applied to the treated area. He promised that it would be removed in 1-2 days. He also instructed her to cover the area with an antiseptic powder several times a day. He warned that a scab would form, and, within 7-10 days, new skin would form. He told her to expect the skin to be red at first, but he assured her that the color would lighten over a few weeks to a few months. I refused to let my Grandma look into a mirror. All I wanted to do at that moment was to go home, and listen to my dad laugh. I had just spent the most frightening Halloween night of my life.
In a couple of months, my dear Grandmother looked much younger. She was probably as much younger in looks, as I was older for my experience in terror. Nowadays, I'm with my mother in the opinion that no operation is a good operation. I also know, now, that I am not one for medicine; that shot got to me!
Every year at Halloween my Grandmother retreats to the hospital. There is always some reason she must go in, but all the family knows it's because she hates Halloween. She cannot tolerate the yearly observance of goblins and ghouls ringing doorbells for candy. She just knows someone will rob her, or steal her cat, or egg her house, or do something far more nefarious in nature. So she chucks it all, and has another needless treatment or operation. When she comes out, she has yet another change in her appearance to mark the occasion. A tighter forehead, fuller lips, cuter nose, or some such modification. I always found it ironic that on the hated holiday where people put on masks and go around ringing doorbells for candy, she would go to the hospital for a new mask to camouflage her flaws. She may not go ringing doorbells for candy, but she certainly does like the attention she receives after her Halloween outings. Don't get me wrong, I am not criticizing my Grandmother because I love her dearly. I'm just commenting on the irony of the situation. Personally, I find it hilarious, and think she is the best.
This year, she has decided to go in for a peel. It is a chemical thing, and she is prepared to have a tender red face for a couple of days before she sees the great results. She has even invited others to join her for a peel on her. My mother flatly refused. She is against any kind of operation. This is probably a reaction to my Grandmother's many nips, tucks, lifts, and various suctions. I myself thought everyone should join in, and keep her company, and so I said, "Yeah mom, all the girls should go get a peel with Grandma. You can all sit there and look at your tomato red faces and commiserate with each other about the pain. And then remind each other how it will be worth it to look so much younger." "Ha, ha, ha," I laughed. Big mistake! For my comments, I received a free peel. That's right. This year on Halloween, instead of indulging myself with decadent chocolate treats and scoping out all the cool costumes, I will be in the hospital receiving a painful chemical peel! I have been mandated to go with Grandma for a peel, thanks to my mother and my big mouth.
Well the night has finally arrived. "Yippee" I say in a glum voice. "Grandma and I are going to the hospital for a chemical peel." My only good thoughts are that at least the torture is free. Tomorrow, when I go to school with a red face, I'll just tell my pals it is a reaction to some face paint. God forbid that my friends should find out that I went to the hospital for a face peel with my Grandma! I would never live it down. I am generally a humorous kind of guy, but that is mostly because of other people's foils and foibles, not my own. Dad thinks it's hilarious. Every time he has looked at me in the past few days, since I opened my big fat mouth, he laughed out loud. It's been humiliating, and I can hardly wait until the whole ordeal is over!
It's 6:00 P.M. on Halloween, and time for us to head over to the hospital. My Grandmother's doctor has given us a check-in time of 7:00 P.M. I'm still thinking about dad laughing at me. Maybe once he sees my red face, he'll stop laughing. Then again, maybe he'll just laugh all the harder. "Oh well, it'll soon be over," I say to myself as we leave for the hospital. As we drove to the hospital, Grandma said, "Well John, perhaps we can make it a date to do this, or something similar every year." Her comment actually frightened me into a stunned silence. "Someone please help me." I screamed inside. I have gotten in over my head. I can only hope that mom hates these procedures so much that she won't force me into any more. One thing's for sure, I will never make comments like those again without thinking! I made that pledge to myself, and I fully intend to keep it.
When we arrived Grandma was prepared for a full-face Phenol peel which would take between one and two hours. I, on the other hand, opted for a light peel. How bad could it be? I get sunburned every spring playing baseball. This can't be that bad. "No big deal." I told myself. We would both spend the night in the hospital, and I would drive Grandma home tomorrow morning. "No sweat. I can do this." I said.
Grandma's doctor must have sensed that I was feeling some discomfort because he tried to put me at ease. He said, "Well son it's not often that I encounter grandsons that share their grandmother's interests." He certainly did put everyone else at ease. This I know because everyone laughed at me. I kind of had to laugh, too, though, when I thought about it from their point of view. "Well then let's get this show on the road." I said. Since my peel would only take about 15 minutes, of course, they were going to begin with me. The nurse came in, and then, she actually asked whether we wanted to be resuscitated should an emergency occur! I am now officially terrified. "What kind of emergency could possibly occur during a facial peel? Can my face melt off?" I asked, as I gasped in terror. Why in the world would they ask such a ridiculous question? Unless.... My mind began working over time. My breath came in big gulps. All of a sudden, I couldn't catch my breath. The doctor gave me a bag and instructed me to breathe in and out of it slowly.
He explained that it was only hospital policy and everyone who had any procedure done had to decide whether to sign a DNR, a Do Not Resuscitate form. "A DNR! Good God! This is getting too intense for me. I am just a kid. How did I get myself into this mess?" I spat at my Grandmother and her doctor. They laughed and told me to calm down.
"What could possibly happen?" my Grandmother asked. "I think it's so funny that every year I sign saying 'should there be any emergency please do not resuscitate me.' After all, who wants to walk around with the type of face one would end up with should there be a real emergency? Why, it would be like living Halloween every day? Wouldn't it?" she queried.
I was aghast. What, I had once thought of as ironic, was now beyond believable. I was in some sort of Halloween Twilight Zone. Honestly, all I wanted to do was go home. However, my dad would never stop laughing at me if he found out I hyperventilated, and refused to go through with the peel. So I signed the DNR just like Grandma, and told them, "Okay, okay, let's get crackin."
You can't imagine the pain. They said, "Oh, don't worry most people only feel a brief burning sensation, followed by a feeling of numbness or stinging." What a big lie. I thought my face was melting off. I was so loud and so upset, the doctor finally gave me a shot. Now I was floating; floating, while my face was melting off. I could even see pieces dropping here and there. It was ghastly. But that was nothing compared to what I saw as they started working on my Grandma. I saw pieces of flesh drop off to the bone. That's right, I saw bones. They actually melted her face off to the bone. It took them hours to get down that far. But they did. I saw them put some Vaseline or something like it in place of her face. Boy was she going to be mad when she was resuscitated. I actually laughed and laughed, as I thought about her reaction when she realized she had no face, only bones, and that they had resuscitated her. I kept telling her doctor, "Boy, you better not resuscitate her. She's going to be mad at you."
Finally, we were taken to our room. I must have fallen asleep sometime between bouts of pledging never to open my big fat mouth again, worrying about my melting face, and laughing at Grandma's reaction to her bones. When I woke up my face was sore and red. Once I remembered what we had been through, I quickly looked over at my Grandmother to make sure she was okay. Honest to God, she looked just like I had described before, in place of her face, there was a mask of Vaseline hiding the bones. I was petrified that when she awoke she was going to be burning mad. As I laughed at my humorous pun, my Grandmother awoke.
The doctor came in just at that moment, and he explained that after a Phenol peel, she would need a pain medication, and he would prescribe a mild one to relieve any discomfort. He also explained that the Vaseline like substance was a waterproof adhesive that was applied to the treated area. He promised that it would be removed in 1-2 days. He also instructed her to cover the area with an antiseptic powder several times a day. He warned that a scab would form, and, within 7-10 days, new skin would form. He told her to expect the skin to be red at first, but he assured her that the color would lighten over a few weeks to a few months. I refused to let my Grandma look into a mirror. All I wanted to do at that moment was to go home, and listen to my dad laugh. I had just spent the most frightening Halloween night of my life.
In a couple of months, my dear Grandmother looked much younger. She was probably as much younger in looks, as I was older for my experience in terror. Nowadays, I'm with my mother in the opinion that no operation is a good operation. I also know, now, that I am not one for medicine; that shot got to me!
posted by R.A. Holloway | 12:21 AM
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