"So, Mr. Ross, here is a packet for you, along with a copy of the files you requested." A tall, African-American nurse said with a smile. "I just heard from the doctor that you're clear to go."

"I'm clear? Finally?" He asked, wanting to hear it again.

"Yeah, finally." She said with a laugh. "I know how it's been, each time they've said they'll discharge you tomorrow, they've moved it. It was, what, four times?"

"Four, yes." He said. "I thought I'd never get out."

"Well, remember, this all is very new and with something this uh, 'unconventional', they wanted to be sure you'd be fine. I know as a lawyer you probably know a bit of why."

"Yes, but it's one thing knowing and another experiencing... but, I do get it. Anyway, do we go in a wheelchair, or?"

"Weirdly, no. You're actually going to walk out of here. That I don't get given everything else, but you are free to request one, if you like."

"No, I want to. You have no idea how excited I am to get out of here."

"Well, who wants to be in the hospital longer than they need to be?" She asked with a laugh.

"It's not just that. I was dead coming in here. I know, not literally, but I knew that when I was brought in this would be where I die. This surgery prevented that. I'm excited to live."

"I'm glad that's your mentality. A lot of guys wouldn't have that if they found themselves in your place, with your new body."

"Let them nearly die and say that. Besides, I kind of like it. It's different, and I think it'll grow even more on me. Anyway," he stood up. "Enough of me chattering. I have a life again. Lead the way."