“How are you feeling?” A gentle someone is asking.
“So cozy. These blankets are so cozy.” I hear a drowsy, soft voice. Is it mine?
“So your feeling OK?”
“Oh. Yeah. I’m fine. I’m so good under these cozy blankets.”
“You can rest some more.”
I tuck my arms under the cozy blankets and close my eyes.
“Dawn? Dawn? It’s time to get up.” That gentle someone is back.
“It’s so cozy.” That voice, my voice, so soft and slow.
“Do you think you can sit up?”
“Yeah.”
She helps me sit up.
“We’re going to sit you up in this chair.”
I look to the right of my bed and see the chair she has wheeled by me.
Slowly we move from under the comfort of the cozy blankets and into the chair.
“Here, you can take your cozy blankets with you.” She says as she re-covers me in my chair.
They bring me to a curtained “room” and bring me water and buttered cinnamon raisin bread. I eat and drink and slowly letting the anesthesia wear off.
(A minor surgery over vacation led to this drowsy, repetitive conversation which somehow, I remembered)
let's observe 
You captured that post-surgery feeling when you’re not quite awake yet… perfectly!
Let me ask you, were the blankets heated? Warm hospital blankets are wonderful when you don’t feel well.
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The blankets were heated. The fact that they were heated masked the fact that they are a but “crusty” and hard!
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This somehow adds to the impact of the anesthesia!
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It’s amazing that you remembered this conversation. I’m told that I was cracking wise after my foot surgery last May, but I don’t remember anything about it. It is “cozy” being taken care of, isn’t it? There’s no better word.
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Ahhh. The twilight zone the happens post-anesthesia. I was worried as I read your post, and relieved that it was just because of minor surgery.
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I couldn’t wait to get to the end of this piece. The inner thoughts make this slice a mystery to me. Thanks for adding the postscript at the end telling us why you had these cozy blankets.
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The repetition of the cozy blankets is so accurate of the state you were in. That in and out. clinging to something and trying to make sense of where you are.
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Those blankets do feel surprisingly cozy. I suppose from being washed so often, but … do they have a blanket warmer? I felt your drowsy when you repeated words. Nice slice. Good mentor for tone and mood.
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You are so good at creating a scene where the reader can just climb right in! I was right with you in those cozy blankets. I’m glad we came out of all of this OK. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen.
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Too bad they couldn’t let you enjoy the cozy blankets! Sounds like lovely rest, though maybe not for a lovely reason.
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The repitition of this post lends an air of calm to read. I was glad however to read your minor surgery went well.
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Best wishes for a quick recovery–and what better way to build your spirits than by writing? I enjoy your posts.
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Cozy is such a great word. I love how you captured this moment through dialogue and description.
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THose heated blankets are amazing – cozy is just the right word. Speedy recovery.
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This conversation perfectly captures that odd post-anesthesia twilight zone. I’m glad you had some cozy blankets to comfort you post surgery.
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Haha, great that you remember! I had a very involved conversation with my anastesiologist during a csection, but can’t remember a word!
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