I feel cold hands grasping my body. Each stitch affects my entire skeleton. One hard shove to my chest and my flesh begins a dull thump. My senses explode with harsh sounds, which causes each finger to twitch and my pupils to roll back and forth under my eyelids. The noises roar into my ears like a train racing down the tracks.

“Just another moment, Doctor Carmine.” I let the name settle in my mind. I sit straight up as the sound of a horn pierces my ears. A scream belts from my lungs, exposing the air to their raw interior. Every small noise in the room scrapes the inside of my eardrums but begins to settle before I can plug my ears with my fingers.

"My senses explode with harsh sounds."

My vision comes to life on the small details of the room. The gray cabinets with silver handle, the white coat draped over a man and each small crack between the tiles on the floor. I raised my fingers to my eyes to shield them from the light above me. A growing headache pounds in my temples as the shine weakens and my pupils dilate. I lower my hands and begin to examine them, unsure of their form. I feel confused and frustrated by everything around me.

“Welcome to the world.” A man says. Two women in light gray scrubs chuckle behind him. “I know that this is all confusing, but give it time. Your brain is trying to finish the rewiring process. Lie back if you have to.”

"I lower my my hands and begin to examine them, unsure of their form."

“Rewire?” My mouth forms an unfamiliar word, but it comes out in a mumble. My hazing mind keeps me from thinking about what is happening. The tall man steps closer to me, looking down to my attire. I follow him, examining the same gray scrubs that the women were sporting. My torso is shaking, but I do not feel cold. “What is-“

“Don’t try to speak. I know that you are thinking a million miles an hour, but don’t push it. Your brain is not capable of making large sentences for another half hour.” He lifts the shirt of my scrubs to my chest and places my hand to hold it in place. “Nurses, here is the incision site.” A large cut divides me in half across my stomach. Dried blood colors the stitches a merlot color.

“Check it twice a day and continue to apply ointment. She will need to be in room seven-twenty for the next two days before release. That is only if her vitals reach the ones specified on her papers.” The women say in unison.

"Your brain is not capable of making large sentences for another half hour."

“Exactly. See, you will be pros at this in no time. Medical may be hiring in a couple of weeks. Can you ask Debra to bring me a drink? She looks parched.” The man continues to speak as if he has dominion over them both.

“I’m a she.” My mouth is beginning to warm up to my brain.

“Yes, you’re Caroline.” He coughs. “Care-o-line, think that over a few times.” My thoughts have trailed off and my focus is on my wrists. A pink, fleshy scar extends horizontally across them.

“What am I?” This sentence seems to make my chest ache with pain as if I already know how to process this.