The Hospital, or, The Dungeon of Torture

I had an illness recently. Luckily, it has passed. I can only assume, however, that Mommy and Daddy were unaware that I was sick when it was at its worst. When I was struggling just to breath, they believed it was an adequate time for me to have a checkup. This was unlike any of the fun checkups My Dear Sister gives me, though; this was the worst checkup ever. An odd device that blew air was put on my face, and it did not cease its attempts to hurt me, no matter how much I fought it. 

Then, I was given disgusting medicine that I immediately sent back, and thus had to have my clothes changed. Finally, when I thought all was over, I was stabbed. Despite my mistreatment, and the late hour, I did my best to keep my nearly constantly high spirits.