[ WP ] Tell a story in which the narrator tells the reader a single lie . Readers are to deduce what the lie is using hints from the story .

My life entered a stage of living hell on April 30, 2006. After being sick for three days and vomiting neon green liquid every time I attempted to eat, I was taken to a doctor. The outcome of the visit was a diagnoses of Appendicitis, and surgery would be required immediately if I was to survive. Immediately my parents drove me to a hospital that had me wait for the surgery I needed for nine hours. During that time a pain that rivals nothing else ripped through my body, it was almost as if molten steel had been poured into my stomach, this pain was my appendix rupturing and spewing a sinister poison all over my internal organs. Almost immediately after this pain devastated my body I was loaded onto a gurney and taken into surgery, a surgery that I will never forget. 
 The surgery lasted for four hours and the anesthesia lasted around eight. When I finally came to the molten feeling in my stomach remained, and I knew something was n't right. Originally I was to be discharged in the morning if the surgery went well, but I was never released. Instead my doctor ordered that I stay for further testing, and that until told otherwise I was not allowed to eat or drink anything. A week passed by before I knew it, a constant diet of morphine and whatever's in IVs was n't enough to sustain my body. Slowly through the course of that week my body cannibalized itself, leaving my arms and legs muscleless, forcing me to rely on my IV stand if I wished to try and walk anywhere. The eighth morning in the hospital came to light with my frail body precariously leaning over my bed, vomiting a mixture of scarlet-red-blood and small, nuclear-waste-green chunks. Doctors were rushed in and swarmed me for hours, running all manner of tests on me to no avail. Around the middle of the day my mother had had enough, eight days in the hospital where my condition had continuously plummeted had been long enough for her. Taking matters into her own hands she called a private ambulance company to have me transferred to a nearby hospital our family has a long running with. 
 Fifteen minutes later I was being picked up out of my bed and being loaded onto a gurney. No matter how careful the paramedic was though a burning dagger like pain erupted in my stomach causing me to cry. Every bump in the hallway caused fresh tears to stream down my face and my hands to weakly grab my stomach. After what seemed like an eternity I was brought out of the hospital doors and loaded into the back of the ambulance, where the most painful ride of my life took place. The inside of the ambulance was actually pretty cool, two benches were along each side of my gurney, one held the paramedic that had tried to pick me up from my bed as delicately as he could. The other bench held what I am assuming was a defibrillator in a bright red box covered in warning and hazard labels. Unfortunately as I was really starting to look around and check out the inside of the the ambulance the driver started blaring the sirens and drove off. As deafening as sirens are when they drive past on the road, on the inside it ’ s 100 times worse. The noise was so loud I couldn ’ t hear the paramedic next to me asking if I was okay. Part of the noise was my own crying as every turn or change in speed caused my pain to escalate to and untold level that to current date has n't been matched. Through the tears dripping out of my eyes I could vaguely see something being injected into my IV and moments later when the ambulance ran over a pothole I passed out from the sheer pain that lanced through my body, almost as if I ’ d stuck a fork into the world's strongest electrical socket. 
 It was the next day when I came around, instantly Dr. Miller was notified and came rushing over, apparently he hadn ’ t been sure I would ever wake up. Right away I realized he was nothing like my other doctor, he worried about his patients and obviously wanted me to recover. Where the other doctor did the motions and ran the average tests Dr. Miller went to extreme lengths to find out what my complications were. Speaking gently to me, in a kind fatherly voice, he asked if I felt up to doing a test for him, replying in a raspy voice from a parched throat that had not had water to sooth its desert like dryness in over a week, I said “ If it will help me recover I ’ ll do anything, but please give me something for the pain first ”. Being my new doctor he did n't know where my pain was coming from, and asked me to draw a small circle with his pen where it was most intense. I drew a small circle no bigger than an inch right below my belly button, and told him that breaking my arm was a six out of ten on a pain scale and the pain coming from that point was unscalable. Looking a bit distressed when I told him that he grabbed a wheelchair and helped me into it before putting some painkillers into my IV drip. After I had received something for my pain he mentioned to my mom that I was going for a cat scan, MRI, ultrasound, and a few other test. She was told to expect me back in two or three hours and to get some well needed rest until then. Wheeling me away he handed me a small piece of candy, telling me that these tests would help him make me better and the candy was to make up for the nasty substance I was gon na have to drink for one of them. The flavor from that small candy was indescribably delicious, bursts of strawberry hit my tongue and for a few moments I was lost in the flavor, then a sweet creamy center revealed itself as the outside melted away and a few tears fell from my face from the sheer enjoyment that one small piece of candy brought to me. 
 I don ’ t remember the cat scan or MRI at all, but the ultrasound shed new light on my increasingly dire situation. A good ultrasound on a male should come up with a gray black screen showing your organs, mine was pure white. White only comes up with a serious infection and everything from my stomach to small and large intestines were infected with something. The conclusion Dr. Miller came to was that my ruptured appendix had leaked onto these organs for quite some time and unless I underwent immediate surgery my organs would fail and ultimately I would die. 
 Everything was rushed after that, I was prepped for an immediate surgery and within a few hours placed back onto the icy operating table. Being given an option of what flavor anesthesia to take I chose strawberry, hoping for a sweet smell to take me into slumber. I counted backwards from ten three times before sleep took me and I was ready to be operated on, but a sharp pain awoke me, and my reaction was to scratch it then my nose. Im still not sure what happened to make me wake up but when I brought my hand to my face to scratch my nose I smelled the distinct wet iron smell of blood, and a warm sticky liquid on my nose after I scratched it. Almost immediately after I scratched my nose I fell back asleep and remained that way until it was all over. Coming to wasn ’ t slow like it ’ s shown in movies and TV, it was fast. When I did come to it was probably at the worst time possible for Dr. Miller and my mother, because as I awoke I could hear the news my doctor was telling my mom. I only had a 10 % chance of recovering from this, which meant I had a 90 % chance of dying. I was well beyond the definition of weak at the time and spent most of the days and nights sleeping after the surgery, but I had made up my mind. I ’ d be damned if I was only going to die a few days before my eleventh birthday and before I could leave a mark on this world. 
 

