My Hospital Gown Cape?
It was supposed to be a routine check-up. Just a quick visit, a little small talk with the doctor, and back to my normal life. But no, my body had other plans.
I arrived at the clinic feeling fine, but as soon as I sat down in the exam room, the doctor gave me The Look. You know the one—the “this is going to be mildly uncomfortable” look.
"Go ahead and change into this gown," she said, handing me a piece of fabric that looked like it had been designed by someone who had never heard of dignity.
Now, let’s talk about hospital gowns for a second. Why do they tie in the back? Why is there always a draft? And why, no matter how tightly you secure them, do they always find a way to betray you?
I struggled to put on my gown, feeling like a newborn calf trying to stand for the first time. The ties at the back were impossible to reach, so I just sort of tucked the fabric into itself and hoped for the best.
Everything was fine until the doctor came in, did her thing, and told me to sit tight while she grabbed my chart. That’s when I made my first mistake—I decided to stand up and stretch.
As soon as I did, I felt a cool breeze. A very specific cool breeze.
I turned my head just in time to see my reflection in the mirror across the room. My gown had come completely untied, flapping open like a superhero’s cape. And let me tell you, I was not wearing my heroic underwear that day.
Just as I lunged to grab the back of my gown, the nurse walked in.
Now, there are moments in life when you can recover with grace. This was not one of them. I froze. She froze. Time itself seemed to freeze.
Then, trying to salvage the moment, I said the worst possible thing:
"Well… I guess this is a full-body exam now."
The nurse turned bright red, handed me a second gown for “extra coverage,” and left the room, probably to laugh until she cried.
Needless to say, I now double-knot everything—including my shoes, my coat, and, most importantly, my dignity.