Feeling Of Missing Out

Patient 555 810 2000

I awake with a deep breath. I'm on a small bed. I'm in only a gown, with only Katie standing beside me.

"Hey sleepyhead. Are you excited?"

"Wh...oh, hi Katie. I must have conked out there."

"You've been sleeping a lot. But they did give you a sedative about 3 hours ago so I guess you would do that. Do you remember what happens today?"

"Um...I think the drugs have gone to my head!" 

"Oh,  this will be exciting then! So can you remember where you are?"

"Um...nope."

"Look around. Any clues? Come on, you're a smart little sister!" So I look around. I try to sit up to get a better look, but Katie takes the remote for the bed and does it the easier way. "Try looking at the boards on the wall."

"It says...my name." It says Skye, not that other foul name. That's cool! 

"And?"

"Patient number? What did I do?" I read the number in my head. The board reads '555 812 2000'.

"You didn't do anything wrong. It's a good thing that you are here for."

"Yeah? Good things don't usually happen in hospitals."

"This is definitely an exception. Today's the day you take the biggest step towards becoming my sister."

"I...oh...what are they going to do to me?"

"Just relax, sis. It's an op you've always wanted. Only it'll be done properly. Not like when you would ask me to do it for you!"

"I...it's the sex change, right?"

"Ding! Come later today, you won't have that thing you hate anymore." Just as she says that, there's a knock on the door.

"Skye Christie? We are here to take you to the theatre. How are you feeling?"

"Tired. But I'm ready. Please make me a girl." 

The nurse replies with a warm and soft smile. "That's the plan, sweetie. Let's get you fixed up." They start to wheel the bed out of the room and down the hall to a lift. On my way past, I see a young woman in a bed going the opposite way. She might be in for the exact same thing, but it's rude to point. I would be trembling right now; that sedative must be some strong stuff for sure. 

As they wheel my bed into the operating theatre and prepare the table for my procedure, my wrist glows entirely pink. The light-blue sheets that the staff are placing on the table to catch the goop stay suspended in the air.

"Hey, petal. How are you feeling?"

"Huh...good...really good..."

"Good! So...this is a simple question. Do you want me to go through with this?"

"Whuh?"

"I've never done this in any scenario before. I don't know what it will do. So if you don't want this, just say before they put the gas over your mouth."

Time crawls forward in slow-motion as the nurses and operating room staff carry my limp body over to the table. It's right beside the bed I was just on, yet it feels like it takes forever. Dysphor talks again, but fuzzier.

"So...this is it..."

They place the mask over my face and turn the squeaky golden-hued tap. 

"Farewell, Skye..."

And in the final glimpse, I see gas escaping one of the valves. Pink smoke. No one bats an eye.