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The Revival

I remember being told one day that I'm about to leave the hospital. It was in my room, quiet with the sound of the Air Conditioner as the only thing keeping the ringing out of my ear. The doctor opens the story gently and started to walk towards me. With each footstep my heart pounded along to, I got more and more anxious. The only time I remember being approached by this doctor is informing me about my intense condition. What is this time? What will he say that can make my situation much more horrid as it is. Then he spoke words that I was not expecting...

"You're going home, sonny." He uttered

"Going... home?" I asked with the most confused tone I can muster.

"Yes... Home." He replied.

 Then he turned around and exited the room.

I thought his reply would bring me joy and relief, knowing that I am getting better, that my condition is no longer hindering me. However, that was not the case. 

Have you ever felt so lost that the only thing that is running through your mind is helplessness? The feeling of being down yet on guard towards your surrounding. The feeling that bad things are happening yet apathy gets the best of you. That's what I felt.

During my time at the hospital, I felt safe, comforted, and at rest. I was discombobulated for sure but it was put at ease due to the fact that these racing thoughts are the subsequent result of the accident which they are trying to treat. 

But now... I felt more disconcerted. I was still having racing thoughts. I was still unsure of what I am and what I am supposed to become when I still had my memories. Instead of freedom, I felt I was not ready. 

I knew at some point I had to go out of the hospital to free up space to other people as I was told, and to not be too reliant on the service which would make me a pain in the back. The problem is, I don't know when. When is it that I am no longer needy of help and just being reliant? When am I actually treated? When am I really ready?

I was not prepared for these questions. I tried to erase it from my head, which is by now in a heavy light-headed state. This wasn't what I was expecting. I felt my heart racing every time I think of those thoughts. I felt like my chest was about to burst open and my neck pressed up against it. 

I saw the door open once again, but this time there were 3 nurses with a wheelchair, the doctor, and Mr. Stephenson. I thought this is it. I was sat up and was transferred to the wheelchair. I was ushered out of the room. 

As I being pushed towards the elevator, I saw many different faces looking at me. Some ill, some pitiful, some with utter disgust though I can't put my finger on why they were disgusted, and some just confused. Then it hit me. 

This is it.

This is the real world. Full of many faces, ugly paintings, white walls, and the lack of comfy beds. I felt horrified as we enter and go down the elevator. I wanted to stop the screeching wheels of the rusty wheelchair I was seating in but alas, I was powerless. As we approach the door I thought to myself, this is it.