Remembering

They wheeled him in quickly. Too quickly for him to make out his surrounding, white and grey and green flashes of movement flying past him. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he was paying attention. No, he was focused inwardly instead, praying, hoping. What exactly was he hoping? He himself wasn’t sure of it. He just knew that it was the thing to do when one found themselves in these situations. His heart jumped in his chest erratically, dreading what was to come even though he had been reassured many times by official looking doctors who seemed to have a lot more knowledge than he would ever have. They said everything was going to be all right and that everything would go swiftly, that everything was routine, but he was still afraid.

He knew he had to go through with it, in order to fix him, to make what was wrong in him right. Still, the vague specter of death floated in the back of his mind. Anything could go wrong. Even though all his research said this surgery only had 0.1% of death, still, that meant some people did die. Maybe this was the time something could go wrong. His heartbeat jumped up another notch, keeping time with the rapid squeaking of the wheels bumping under his prone body. Doors opened before him, closed behind him, and yet, they kept moving.

Suddenly, everything came to a standstill and he found himself in a white room. Metal gleamed all around him. Computer screens with obscure symbols glowed green. A figure loomed next to him saying words that were muffled. He struggled to understand, but then, something clamped over his mouth and nose. This shock caused him to gasp deeply, drawing in a strange smelling gas up inside of him. He tried to expel it, but it was too late. His body began to freeze slowly. Not with cold, just with non-movement. It was impossible to twitch now and a feeling of claustrophobia descended on him.

He tried to tell them how bad he was feeling but his throat muscles didn’t seem to respond to his brain’s urgings. A figure swaddled from head to toe in cloth smiled gently at him. Then its arm reached down and came back up, this time holding a luminous object. A sharp luminous object, its blade gleaming in the harsh lighting; and it was headed straight for his body! He tried to scream, “STOP!” but instead, he lay there frozen, unable to speak, unable to move. The first slice was pure agony. Pain rushed through him, a river of suffering. Panic rose up in him. The first time he felt the dull throb of drops falling on him and realized it was his own life fluids, the very revulsion of it made him want to vomit violently, but his stomach wouldn’t frustratingly comply. The sour smell of bloody entrails hung heavy in the air. Each additional slice compounded his agony. Through all this, he couldn’t scream or run away, locked into a perpetual nightmare that he had willingly signed up for, willingly had to go through in order to make him better. Time seemed to be at an impasse, every second lasting for an eternity of hurt. It didn’t seem worth it anymore. He didn’t want to be better anymore. He just wanted it to stop. He stared straight ahead, his eyes fused into place, wanting to cry. Eventually, that was all he could think about. He wanted to cry. He wanted to cry. Above him, the white figures moved in incomprehensible patterns. Every so often, gleaming silver objects would lift into view, dripping, splattering all over. Every moment that passed, the more every pore of his body desired pure oblivion, so when another white-swaddled figure roughly clamped another rubber mask on his face, he didn’t even think to fight. Gas flooded his lungs, and blackness overcame him

The next day, he lay in the hospital bed, smiling, dwarfed by the rich white expanse of his bed. His hand was tenderly clasped by an earnest young woman. Her lips painted a bright rich red that perfectly matched her skirt.

“You’re so brave going through that! I would be so scared!”

“Oh, it was nothing. It wasn’t really that big a deal. They gave me something to make me sleep through it.”

“Oh really?”

“I’m not sure. Well, I’m pretty sure I slept through it. All I remember is being wheeled into a room. Next thing I knew, I was waking up right here again. Don’t remember anything else.”

The young woman shuddered and looked upon him with admiration. Silence fell between them. He was deep in thought, his hand still sweatily clasped in the young woman’s grasp. She was afraid of ever letting go, as if she knew that if she let go, she wouldn’t be really sure if he’s all right. Something in him didn’t sit right with her and she peered anxiously into his distant eyes.

“Are you sure you’re ok? Do you want me to get you anything? I mean, anything.”

He focused back on her face, her dear face, and managed to summon up a smile. “Sure I’m fine. I’m as fine as fine gets. Don’t worry so much. It can’t be good for you, all this worry. It was a routine procedure, that’s what I’ve been told. Stop worrying. You’re getting all these frown lines.”

“I can’t help it. Worry’s part of the deal when you love someone. I see you and I worry. Worry even when you’re all right and you’re looking at me with those dreaming eyes. Worry when I don’t see you, thinking of all these different types of possibilities, the things that could happen to you, to take you away from me. I wake up worrying. I go to sleep worrying. It never stops…” She stopped abruptly, biting her lip looking down. “I’m sorry, I know I’m babbling. I tend to babble when I’m nervous. You know that.”

His free hand twitched a little, and then it slowly lifted up to lightly touch her face. The tips of his fingers felt the sheen of sweat on her face, her dear face. “I know. I know. Look, I’m tired. Somehow, I’m really tired, even though lately I’ve been apparently sleeping so much. I think I’d like to get some sleep.” He took his hands back and turned his back on her. He wasn’t lying. He really was tired.

“Oh…ok. I guess I’ll come back tomorrow. Maybe noon? I’d like that. Would you like that?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t feel like answering so he just lay there, waiting, waiting for her to leave him. Her fingers touched his hair hesitantly and then he felt her hot breath on his cheek as she gave him a little kiss. Footsteps faded away and he was left in silence. Silence so loud. Beeping machines and rustles in the hallway did nothing to disturb the screaming silence. His eyes closed and soon exhaustion flooded him. His body was quickly overcome with slumber.

Again, he felt slices of pain, slicing right through raw nerves. His flesh seemed to fall off of him, blood flowing hotly down his legs, his knees, dripping onto the floor, plopping with wet thuds. He wanted to scream but he couldn’t, the screams stifled in his chest, claustrophobia overcoming him. “Please” he begged “PLEASE STOP!” but the white bundled figure above him just smiles, he couldn’t hear him, couldn’t hear his screams. A shiny knife is lifted high above him. A silent scream ripped out of him and suddenly he was awake. His eyes flew open, sweat beaded on his forehead and nose. His body shaking uncontrollably.

His mind struggled to remember his fleeting dream. The pain, the terror felt so real to him but he didn’t remember. It was as if something happened in that white room that his mind wouldn’t forget. He struggled against its misty confines but he didn’t remember. He couldn’t remember.

He lay awake still feeling that sheen of sweat from the young woman coating his fingertips, comforting him.