Sharp-eyed readers may have noticed that dog-loving New York Post columnist Cindy Adams has been absent from the paper for months. She was sick! Now she's back! With a deeply disturbing column of hospital erotica.

Cindy says that starting last February, she "didn't eat for two months," and ended up being rushed to the hospital. There, her tale takes a turn for the sexxxy:

I became feverish. Nurses and my housekeeper, Nazalene, washed and changed me each minute. Three pints of blood were administered. I was wheeled through tests and machines. A team was summoned. Barring the token gentile Dr. Turner, I doubt there exists a non-Jewish M.D. I remember Feingold, Moskowitz . . . anyhow, more guys than at Johns Hopkins had their hands in me, up me. The hospital's excellent. The team kept me alive. But they fingered areas I never knew I had. My private parts hadn't had this much attention since my wedding night.

Also, Cindy Adams' legal guardian is Judge Judy. Only in New York, kids.