Assignment B pt. 3

The third instalment of assignment B which was meant to be a fictional treatment of a significant day in my life. I'm not too impressed with this but I'm sure it'll do.

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Pete hopped onto the hospital bed before the nurse pushed her foot down onto the wheel lock and began wheeling the bed, with it’s wheels rattling dangerously, down the cold hospital corridor towards the operating theatre with his parents beside the bed, trying to keep up to speed.

When asked if the operation could be filmed, the nurse simply replied with “We’ll see what we can do” with which his mum followed with “Be quiet and calm down”.
Although nervous, Pete managed to keep calm as he was pushed out of the lift and towards the generic two-way doors which you see on films and drama shows. Through the doors, Pete and his parents were in a small square room which would lead into the operating theatre.

“Are you ready for this?”, his dad asked calmly. “Yep”, Pete replied before the nurse announced the cliché of “You’re just going to feel a small scratch,” before injecting the anaesthetic. “Now count down from 10”.

At 5, Pete fell asleep, ready to be operated on.

4 hours later, Pete’s eyes flickered open and he tried to sit up, forgetting that he was attached to a machine.

After lying in bed for 20 minutes, studying his surroundings, Pete’s mum walked in and smiled, happy to see he was awake (and alive). “How do you feel?” she asked. “Sore.”

“Well just relax and we’ll wait for the nurse to come in.”

Upon saying that, the nurse made an appearance to check how everything was and it was time for Pete to spend a week attached to a machine.

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Hopefully the sentence structure is okay. If it's not, that's the fault of my word processor.

Semester B - Week 2

This week we had to take a significant day in our life/lives and create three pieces out of it: a poem, dramatic treatment (stage script) and fictional treatment.

As I'm not a fan of poetry, I put this back to the last minute but it seemed to come out okay, I suppose seeing as poetry is usually just written in a style which may people may call bollocks. After this post I'll be sticking up part two of this week's assignment and hopefully by the end of the night be able to stick up part 3 so here it is:

Lying on a bed
Travelling down a hallway
With tubes in my arms
And parents by my side
Sending me soothing words

Nervous but excited
Tired but awake
Curious but knowledgeable
And aware of what’s to follow
After I fall asleep

Waiting in a room
Surrounded by tools
A needle points towards me
And gently enters my arm
Before I know it, I’m asleep

Finally asleep
Surrounded by surgeons
It’s time to start
Cutting things open
With a sharpened medical blade

Move forward 4 hours
Eyes flicker open
Wondering where I am
I’m in a hospital ward
Sterile, white and cold

Gosh, I’m in G.O.S.H
Surrounded by fellow operationees
All attached to machines
Making strange noises
Bleeps and buzzes and hums

With wires in my head
And tubes in my arms
I’m unable to move
From this bed with locked wheels
And plain white sheets


Parents arrive at my side
Ask if I’m okay
Not okay but alive
But still extremely tired
And able to sleep for a day

I’m lying in bed
On my road to the cure
Of an epileptic life
To be free from worries
And able to have more fun

The road is long
This is just the beginning
But I’m willing and ready
To be attached to a machine
For the long week ahead