Post-operative Gas [Aobura Literature Department Project Entry]

The sound of a fart echoed through the room, breaking the silence. In that moment, he proposed to me.
"I'm glad you're safe. Now that there are no more secrets between us, let's get married."

Just two days ago, I had visited the emergency room with unbearable abdominal pain and was admitted immediately. According to the doctor's diagnosis, I had developed an "ileus," or "intestinal obstruction," which causes not only abdominal bloating but also severe pain and nausea. To put it simply, it is a condition where what goes into the stomach cannot come out, meaning not only stool but even gas cannot pass.
The doctor said, without changing his expression:
"In cases of extremely intense pain, the blood flow to the intestines can worsen, causing them to rot, or the stomach or intestines can rupture, leading to peritonitis where intestinal fluid and stool spread throughout the abdomen, which is very dangerous. Emergency surgery is necessary. What would you like to do?"
As I wore a look of confusion, the doctor, perhaps concerned about the many other patients visiting the emergency room at night, seemed to want a quick decision and asked him:
"Husband, what would you like to do?"
He seemed more confused by being suddenly called "husband" than by the surgery itself. Seeing his confusion made me flustered as well, but since this was a time to make a calm decision, I answered immediately.
"Doctor, please proceed with the surgery."
"Understood. Since it's best to do it as soon as possible, I will explain the surgery now."
Having said that, the attending physician and the anesthesiologist came in to replace the doctor and explained everything carefully. He seemed to find it too much trouble to explain at this late stage that he wasn't actually my "husband," so he continued to act in that role.
I had always tried not to show my weaknesses to him, but today I couldn't calm my anxiety and teared up in front of him. I could feel him listening intently to my story, trying to ease my worries. How reassuring it was to have him by my side.
Once I had received the full explanation of the surgery, a new worry arose. I was told that "passing gas" was necessary for post-operative recovery. I had casually told him that I would be fine after the surgery and that he should go home and pray for its success. However, once I lost consciousness under anesthesia, I had no way of knowing whether he had gone home or was staying at the hospital.

After the surgery was over, while I was still groggy from the anesthesia, I unintentionally "passed gas," and immediately after that, I received his proposal.
Perhaps that is just how life is...

I tried to write this as seriously as possible (^^)/