(4 years ago) (2 years after the incident)
I remember it like it was yesterday, and I've had years to relive it, to strengthen this memory:
Vicious blinding light invaded my mind instantly, quickening my pulse and awakening my senses that I felt had been harnessed and only partially relinquished by the safe darkness, not to my knowledge at the time, but that I had called my home for the past two years.
I strained to lift my head, roll my eyes, move my limbs, my fingers, my mouth, all to my exhausting and excruciatingly painful disappointment. The panicked mental wound of not being able to function properly was instantly bandaged with layer after layer of hazy questions, each seeming to be more delusional and psychotic after the other.
How long have I been asleep?
Why am I lying down?
Was I asleep?
Who am I?
What am I?
Where am I?
I scanned and examined every inch of my peripheral vision, desperately straining to rotate my eyes, it was impossible. All I could see was glossy bleach white brick material covering the ceiling ahead of me. Large machines surrounded my bedside. Just below the bridge of my nose, I could make out the top of a large cup that was clamped tightly to my mouth.
Hundreds of questions buzzed through my head. Everything was eerily silent, and I could hear my own heart beat quicken. As it did, a large crimson machine that clung to the wall just above my head started to screech and whistle.
Only seconds later, a rush of air swept over me, and I felt a strange energy enter the room. A panicked and frightened, yet excited sensation spread through the room, coating every nook and cranny with its presence. Sweeping out the decaying depression that had been lingering for much to long.
Footsteps crept towards me, followed with the visual of three large men, towering above me. They gazed into my open eyes in what seemed to be utter disbelief that was shortly followed with pure amazement. I studied them closely. Almost every inch of their skin was covered by sea foam green fabric, with paper white masks, latex gloves, and thin cotton caps. I couldn't focus very well on facial features, I was completely vulnerable to my limited perspective.
Wait, I've seen these people before, they are doctors. It took me awhile to piece together everything that was being shoved at me, and even longer to accept that I appeared to be the victim, the patient.
I squinted my eyelids in order to focus on their movement. One leaned over my face. His hands seemed to be unfolding and stripping away a material that was plastered to the side of my head. He seemed unsure and anxious as his fingers meandered around my face, pausing at moments to look at the other two men in the room. My ears were flooded with the same loud siren above me, and the newly added frantic and heavy breathing of the anxiety stricken doctors. The two other men congregated around machines and screens, pointing and speaking to one another in ways that I could not comprehend. Every moment that passed, more worry and confusion clogged my thoughts. One of the men came to my bedside and gripped something that was right next to my torso. I couldn't tell if he was touching me, I felt no pain, in fact, I felt nothing at all. "Her skin is clammy and ice cold." The man sputtered as his eyes darted from my face to the clock. I could make out the words forming on his lips as he silently whispered, one, two, three, four. "Start a transfusion immediately." called the doctor at the edge of the room.
WHAT THE HELL! In my mind I was screaming and thrashing around, but in the unfair and torturesome reality that I was surrounded by, I was as still and motionless as the wall across from me.
"Someone signal the nurse to notify the family." The same doctor hollered. The words crept over me, making my skin crawl with a mishmash of emotion. Excitement, anger, hope, and an odd twinge of envy coursed throughout my body.
My attention was soon drawn away by the doctor to my right, still fiddling around with the material around my head. From the corner of my eye I could make out the large man slowly peeling back a creamy white knit tape from around the side of my head, and to my shock and disbelief, it was stained with enormous blotches of deep red. I felt faint so I tried to focus my attention to the doctor on the opposite side of me. He seemed to be attaching many tubes and gadgets to my arms, chest, and throat. He looked as nervous and uneasy as I was feeling inside. He slid his thin fingers over the many steal cylinders that stood on rods and connected tubes and silver wire to what seemed to be, all over the upper half of my body. The doctor at the back of the room violently muttered "Let's get a spect scan." The man to the right of me waved his gloves above my face and studied my features. He spoke to me in a loud and stern, yet kind hearted tone. You could tell he was trying to multitasks and that he was preoccupied with the overwhelming thought of the risk of them loosing me, one way or another.
--All of the sudden the door to the room opened in an act of fury. I was taken over by the presence and power of love that had once been torn apart, and had been growing stronger, the longer it had been deprived.--
