I woke up. The beeping of the hospital machines startled me. I couldn’t feel my right hand. The doctor walks in.
“You’re up. Well, we need to tell you something.” he told me.
“Well, what’s wrong?” I ask. Wait. Hold on a second. My voice was really deep and weird-sounding. This isn’t right. I start freaking out.
“Your surgery went really well. But, as a consequence, you now have alien hand syndrome.” the doctor reported. Just as he said that, my right hand literally flew and smacked him in the face. I stare, horrified, unable to move. Then, the hand flies back to me and starts pulling my jacket down. It pulls the covers off the bed and starts tugging at my socks. I try to reach forward and grab it, but it runs away just as I get there.
“Arrrrrg!” I yell. My hand comes zooming back to me and slaps me in the face.
“Hurry Rose! Grab the hand! You must keep it under control!” the doctor yells.
“I-I can’t! It’s too fast!” I scream back frantically. I grab it, and it slows down.
After a few days, the doctor releases me from the hospital and the hand follows me. It made itself a little bed next to mine. I have tried to shake it off me, but it seems like it is so attached to me it will never leave me. This syndrome has changed my life. Forever.