[I found this in my Gmail “Drafts” folder after my appendectomy. Yes, right, by the by — I had an appendectomy. Anyway, I have no memory of writing it, but it damn sure sounds like me. In my defense, you wake up in pain, afraid, and alone, and you’d likely be a bit ornery too.]
DOCTOR: How would you rate your pain on a scale of —
SEK: ELEVEN BILLION
DOCTOR: On a scale of one to —
DOCTOR: One to ten.
SEK: ELEVEN BILLION AND CHESTBURSTER
DOCTOR: That’s not a number.
SEK: YOU’RE NOT A NUMBER
DOCTOR: So it hurts?
SEK: IT JOHN HURTS MOTHERFUCKER
DOCTOR: We’re going to take care of you.
SEK: NOT IF I TAKE CARE OF YOU FIRST
DOCTOR: You came through with flying —
SEK: YOU CAME THROUGH WITH FLYING —
DOCTOR: Are you just going to repeat what I say now?
SEK: AM I JUST GOING TO —
SEK: [sheepishly] I HURT ELEVEN BILLION AND CHESTBURSTER
DOCTOR: I’ll forgive you — this time.
SEK: I’LL FORGIVE YOU —
SEK: THANK YOU KIND WOMAN [hesitates] HERE IS MY “MUST ALWAYS RESUSCITATE” ORDER
DOCTOR: This is a napkin.
SEK: TURN IT OVER
DOCTOR: “We’ll do whatever it takes, God damn it, I won’t let him die on my table.” Cute.
SEK: NOT CUTE TRUTH
DOCTOR: You do realize we already did the surgery, right? You’re post-op.
SEK: OF COURSE
DOCTOR: We’re just monitoring you now.
SEK: I KNOW THAT
DOCTOR: Of course you do.