Smooth

Right now, at this minute, a row of Frankenstein staples line my knee. It looks like the dickens, I can tell you that for sure. The staples come out today and soon I’ll have a knee smooth as a baby’s bottom. Okay. Maybe not quite that smooth. But smooth. Yeah, I’ll be as smooth as they come.

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “smooth.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

5 thoughts on “Smooth”

  1. This is the United States after all. The land of us who need to present a body ever young, ever smooth, ever perfect. What a crock! We age no matter how we disguise it. Instead of trying to cover it up why can’t we discover new ways to live; to be the person we really are; to embrace letting go and seeing that dependence isn’t all that bad all the time.

  2. 50 words of fiction:

    Smooth

    A bump in my brain.
    I saw it on the MRI scan: a tiny black hole with all my brain tangling around this space of nothingness.
    Is this the void that will suck up all my thoughts, dreams and brain connections when I’m old until only bleak emptiness remains?

  3. On the bright side I like usage of the word smooth to say, “hopefully, all your healing and time during your recuperation will be smooth.” I highly recommend snuggling up in a silky smooth and softly colored roomy pajama top to help make the experience a bit better. Add to that a sensuous bouquet of pastel velvety flowers in your favorite vase next to you on your bedside table. And top it all off with a good book and one large delicious smooth cold martini made with the best vodka you can afford. All smooth sailing on your journey to being purrfectly healthy before you know it. Smooth can be very, very good.

  4. It was my first Caribbean cruise. My excitement knew no bounds. Dressed for the evening meal I entered a spectacular dining room. The hostess beckoned me to follow her to a panoramic window booth. As I followed her through the maze of tables I unexpectedly lost my balance. I glanced up and out the window saw water three quarters high leaving only a remnant of grey sky. Without a doubt this was not smooth sailing.

  5. I had Frankenstein staples too, all along the inner thigh of my right leg , when I was operated for varicose veins . On my second post op day , I went into sepsis . All my parameters went haywire . Everything that could go wrong did. The blood pressure plummeted , and I was on ionotropes for five days . They couldn’t find a vein to stick the IV into me , so central line -the jugular was pierced.
    I had great hypoxic hallucinations , which I still recall vividly . In one outstanding one, I found myself lying on a bed in a meadow . Cow bells ringing , breeze and all . I could even smell the wildflowers. Must be the beeps from several icu gadgets.

    Thanks to gaping wounds, (the staples , thought to be a foreign body triggering the ghastly reaction , were hastily removed ) and an agonisingly slow healing process , I never regained the smooth thigh I thought was mine . It is still ridden with battle scars , a grim reminder to the fragility of our lives . I thank Providence every time I take a bath , for bringing me back from the abyss I was hurtling down into.

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