Crash and Burn

f i f t y s e v e n: Awake

Light filtered through my closed eyelids but I was hardly aware of it. All I could feel was the pounding in my head, the blinding pain coming from my neck, and the fatigue coursing through my veins. My brain wouldn't allow itself to process anything else. 

I was acutely aware of the incessant beeping of my monitor as it kept up with the pace of my heartbeat, the steady thumping echoing in my chest. I was slowly beginning to wake up, along with my other senses. When I begin to smell the sterile air of the hospital, I start to wish I was back to being in my vegetative state of unconsciousness.  

The light behind my eyelids gets brighter and brighter with each passing second, yet I still refuse to open my eyes up quite yet. I wiggle my fingers, feeling slightly constrained as I feel wires hooked to my hand and arms shift along with my movements. I internally groan at the complete and all-consuming pain I feel. Not only does every bone and tendon in my body seem to be aching, but my chest and heart seem to be as well. That's not even mentioning the odd sensation of pain coming from the skin on my neck. 

I force my brain to try and focus on anything but my pain but come back empty-handed. I can't seem to look back into the depths of my memory to try to piece together any events that led me to this position in the first place. I feel a surge of frustration with myself for not being able to get out of this bed without struggle and instantly remember what was even going on. 

Instead, though, I feel so weighed down by my own exhaustion to move anything more than my fingers and my brain feels too fried to even think about anything other than the pain radiating in my bones. 

However, I still had a nagging feeling that something was definitely wrong; it was just something I couldn't quite remember yet. The feeling was giving me increasing anxiety. I felt as if I should be doing something productive instead of laying here motionlessly. 

I need to try to get up now rather than later. I might not know much at the moment, but the only way to force my brain to stimulate itself is by trying to get up. Maybe then I'll remember everything and figure out why I feel a sense of dread hanging above my head, refusing to show the reason for its presence. 

I begin to shift my elbows closer to my body so I can use them as support to lift my head up, but the sound of the door creaking open halts the progression of my movements. I lay still once again, my eyes sealed shut. 

I hear every single shoe scuff on the floor, each one getting closer to me. I feel my breath slightly hitch in paranoia- of what, I don't know. However when I hear the shuffling of papers and the rattling of whatever machine I'm hooked up to then I know it's just a nurse coming to check on me. 

The anonymous nurse fiddles with the machine for a couple of minutes, followed by the sound of pen on paper as they write some things down. I'm startled when they grab my hand, and I try my best not to let my surprise show on my facial expression. I keep my hand limp as the nurse rearranges some of the wires and tubing stuck in my skin. It stings only for a second as the nurse rips off a piece of tape holding a tube in place before removing the tube from its position under my skin. The nurse then presses a cotton ball to the open wound before setting my hand down once again and turning to leave the room. 

However, some random nerve of courage hidden deep in my subconscious decided to show itself when I call out, "wait." My voice sounds hoarse and weak, but it's still loud enough for the nurse to hear me loud and clear. The footsteps halt before they walk back over to me. 

For the first time since my brain awoke from unconsciousness, I find the strength to open my eyes. I'm met by a female nurse looking back at me with wide eyes of her own. I guess she didn't realize that I was even cognizant enough to know that she ever even came into the room.