Rescue?

My leg still aches.  If I move at all, there is a searing pain that shoots up through my entire body.  It’s more of a dull ache at this point, probably because of the stitches.  Yes, stitches, and no, I didn’t give them to myself.  When I finally woke up this morning, I was in a very different place.  I suppose different is good in this case.  Although anything is better than that hell-hole I was stuck in.  There seems to be something strangely familiar about this place, but I can't explain why.  It's weird.  I’m in a small room, propped up in an elevated bed with my right leg suspended by some wires.  There is a monitor to my right depicting a small, electronic heart that keeps making a very annoying beeping sound, and there are dozens of wires and hoses hooked up to my body with weird colored fluids running through them.  There’s also a woman in white clothes that keeps running in and out of the room, always poking and prodding me and asking incessant questions.  I have to write quickly and shove the paper and pen under the sheets when she walks in.  She already took away the other piece of paper I had started writing on.  Apparently I’m supposed to be resting, or something like that, but I can’t have peace of mind until I write all this down.  I don’t want to forget a single detail.  Fortunately, there was a whole pad lying on the table next to my bed.  I really wish she’d just leave me in peace.  I still have absolutely no idea who I am or how in the world I got here–Op, here she comes again.