kind measure

I woke up with tubes coming out of my chest.  Below my left and right collarbone were two plastic windows.  Behind them slippery lungs could be seen moving.  Ribs and veins, looking like a viney garden.  A note was written on the left window.  In German, crosswise, that I had to read upside down.  The damage was worse than we thought, but you must remember what we told you.  You must be a stoic.  I pulled the gauze back around my chest.  They hadn't waited for me to wake up, it was protocol to leave a note in permanent marker.  They'd closed me up in plastic, not entirely heartless.