Musings on Life from a Dead Girl

Well

The first thing I registered was the pain
Blinding all-consuming pain
I have had a few surgeries and if you are lucky you just wake up feeling drunk and loopy
High on morphine and whatever else
This was not one of those times
The surgeon had put me into a clumsy position on the OR table
My arm pinned beneath me
My surgery, the procedure meant to last an hour, two at max had gone over nine hours
I felt like my mouth was sewn shut
I had a mind to think and do but my body was still under the control of the drugs
I couldn't speak
Couldnt explain the rush of panic when I realized I was choking on my own blood and couldn't move my arm
I lay there staring at the team of nurses unable even to cry
That first night they denied me water and food
I hadn't had any since the afternoon before
My mouth full of mucus and blood clots
It was no wonder I vomited
The nurse, instead of treating me as a person chose to think of me as a problem and scolded me for making a mess so late
I had been telling her I was nauseous for an hour
She never listened
None of them do
She let me sit in my own sick
She was a bitch and I'm not sorry to say it
The nurse was apparently unaware that her patient had a mind of my own and started talking about me to my mother
"Is she always this anxious?"
No, normally I'm not chained to a bed naked with my throat thick with blood
Normally I can drink and move
Normally I am treated like a person
I hate hospitals
I hate doctors
I hate medication
And needles and pain
I hate being sick
I hate this tumor in my brain
And most of all I hate my body for doing this to me
These are the things I thought that night
These are the memories I carry
This is the life I lead
The surgeries are different, they tell me
But the story stays the same I am always naked, cut, and ogled
I am always in pain
Nothing changes
Nothing gets better
I only garner more scars and lose more parts and take more pills
I will never be well