Silly Grins

Friday, February 1, 2013

Eight Days of Darkness

Was it eight days?

Eight days of continuous sleep?

But when people are in that state, they’re not supposed to feel anything, are they? I mean, how could he have been grinding his teeth?

When he opened his eyes, the sheets smelled clean. And an angel stood there.

“Hello. We have to do this. To make it better. It’s okay… might hurt just a little.” 

Reality delivered in one continuous motion a truth that even the strength of a child’s fear could erase. Warm hands held the arm in place. 

“We’re going to need to give you that shot now, you can squeeze your fist… good… let’s count to ten together. One,  two…”  Back into the black nothingness. 


All was reset.

Next, there was light.

Everything was moving. The people. The hallway. Uninterrupted noise and motion. And the starched sheets still smelled fresh.

A lot had to be relearned. Mainly coordination. And later, there was training.

When the first one came off, it tickled.

Later, the second one… everything shook as that burning fine line, god's hands abuzz on their way down.  No time wasted. Crackling and swift removal. The table was so cold. 

Relearned. Coordinated. Trained.

Those first few step were spontaneous. It was her voice. In the next room. She had a way of speaking that sounded like laughter.  

Some people just shine. 

It’s all a gift.

My angel... her wings are broken
 If only she knew she still can fly

No one said it was going to be easy.


  1. No idea what's going on here, but if she is an angel, let's give her a better-looking wheelchair than that one, shall we...

    1. The cycas wings were a reminder of angels, three in particular: the first was a nurse; the second is the first stepmother; the third, in the last verse, is a wife (worlds away) who drinks too much 'medicine'.

      The needle, light, and the chair were for a boy who woke up broken - once upon a while ago.

      Maybe that's why sometimes it is a challenge to get ideas across for what's going on here.

    2. Nah, I'm just thick in the head ;)

    3. Some of us often have those, "Tell me about the rabbits, George" kind of moments.

  2. That count down reminds me all too well of getting sedated before it all goes black. This is probably gonna make me sound like a druggie but I happen to enjoy the feeling of being put under. Not so much a fan of flirting with the nurses or talking back to the anesthesiologist though. Or coming back from being asleep... thank heaven for 7-11 (or rather pain meds).

    1. Last time I almost went under it was due to what was explained as something neurological. I was on the table with a stable heart rate of maybe sixty. Then it started to drop... got near twenty. There was a sinking sensation as the blackness started in. Everyone in the room became uncomfortably still, staring at the monitor. "Take it out," said the doctor.

      Apparently that was the first time the good doctor had come across something like that. He later explained something about how if the heartbeat goes too low, "cardiac arrest" is pretty much a given.

      But like you said, there is something enjoyable about 'the feeling of being put [or going] under'. You don't sound like a druggie. I mean, people who've never experienced bliss, how can they condemn people for wanting to feel more after having almost been there? Addictions make 'choosing' much more difficult. Last two times I was offered lines, I declined. One offer was out of politeness and the other was most likely from an entrepreneur.

      Either way, being in pain does suck. Hard to be around people who are going through it.