One of these days:
tiled operating room with a black clock; liked the deep turquoise color of the sheets; electrodes stuck to the chest; beep...beep...beep...; spinal injections; ticklish toes; no feeling in legs; docs discussing winter sea swimming ('- does it bother you? - no'); arthroscope with a screen ('- can you see well?'); assistant solving crosswords; my knee from inside - white and cotton candy like; mechanical cutter sounds; cutter - a little animal eating its way into my tissue; bone drilling vibrations; weird feeling; no smell; (man, the power these guys need to have, they must feel really tired after operating); seeing my new ACL being pulled through the bone by a violet thread; why violet? i think the screen was b&w...; doc showing me the long white screw; lots of hard hammering and pulling; '- Finished!'; the stitches work and the burning feeling on my skin; ... I'm out of the green room.
One of these nights:
hospital pain-killer dreams; nurses reluctant to disclose the name of the stuff they inject you with (like why? so that you don't get it yourself to get high in the future? :)); i insist; 'tramadol - i so like what it does to you'; warmth and calmness; your exploding knee takes off and flies far far away; you are half awake, yet dreaming; dreaming with your eyes wide open; seeing yourself in bed from above and waiving at yourself; visiting home of your friend from kinder garden to help her with her English homework (you are not in touch for a million years); walking loads straight after the op. and super angry at yourself for that,'cause you're not yet allowed to; open your eyes; old ladies making you eat and complaining about you not doing so; nurses bringing you night fixes; tramadol + a sleeping pill - and you are gone to better places for some 10 hrs; literally your dreams are tasting sweet; all you wanna do is sleep and see stuff; sleeping day and night, for weeks; *** pain; getting home and not being able to sleep; see yourself getting rid of one of your legs and couldn't wait till the other is taken - just so that you could fall asleep; no more syringes available; stuck with insomnia.
3 comments:
Is this a true story or a fiction (or a bit of both)? Sounds incredibly painful and distressing either way; hope everything's alright?
P.S. Still beautifully written of course
Thank you for the words of encouragement. No, this is not really fiction. (Now defining dreams as fiction or non-fiction is really where I'm getting stuck...) Everything should be better. Soon.
Olga,
What you've wrote sounds like a surrealistic poem and you know why? It has strong feelings attached to the words you chose and we almost feel that we are looking at a movie scene when you describe all the environment where you stood. These thoughts remind me a dark fase you've gonne through after your accident. I'm sure these are just bad dreams now. Hugs and sweet dreams :)
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