By Brent Cleveland
Both a blur of a screen, possibly two of them, large and blue hover above me, they are crisp in definition, moving at a pace greater than my own.
I am a small drip of liquid, dark and tainted, starting from high above and falling deep below. It is a hard drip, painful in its fall and tense with anticipation as to where I might land. The acceleration of pain comes from my never landing. I do not end, I continuously fall at a speed not known to mankind. I am heavy with purpose. However, there is no resolution, my only objective is to both feel and not feel the great distance of my fall.
I am hovering above myself and sinking within where my body is nestled into a sharp curve. I am trying not to think, and it is an easy task because I am being transported through time and space against my will.
The large blue screens pass above, humming like aging vacuums. They are screens of light, oppressive and looming.
I am desperate and pitiful, attempting to grasp reality, I cannot understand what is happening to me as my insides ache and thud. Tammie Brown begins to fade in and out of my consciousness, she is looking at me, and she is not happy at all. I see her drawn on eyebrows, expressing dissatisfaction.
I imagine my own face but it melts away.
I am transported to depictions of hell that I’ve only ever recollected from the margins of illuminated manuscripts that were once briefly described in an art history lesson.
I am uncertain if I am attempting to comfort myself, or if my mind has truly caved in.
“I am injecting dilaudid into your arm right now”, my nurse says.
Her name is Jennifer and she likes country music. She is a year older than me and has been taking care of me for several days. I am crying because I fear I will never come to understand any other sensation. I begin to writhe as I feel the pierce of metal entering my left arm. She is squeezing the remaining bit of fat in order to get a hold of me.
There is a whiteness that begins to emerge from somewhere inside me, I can feel fluid flowing into my arm and travelling inside me.
My eyes are pressed shut; I am nauseous and dizzy.
“You’ll feel better soon, just hang on for a bit”, Jennifer tells me, she is so calm and reassuring that I choose to believe her.
I want to pass out but I’m afraid I won’t come back.
I am suddenly in limbo, the chemicals in my brain start changing and I no longer feel like I’m falling. My entire body begins to transform as the painkiller sets in. I begin to feel cool, as if someone casually stuck me in a freezer during a summer haze.
A silence takes over as I realize I’ve been groaning and wailing loudly for quite a while. My moans turn to silent whimpers and I am no longer a painful drip, but instead, I become a small infant. My eyes flicker in relief as the full effect of the dilaudid takes play. I sigh and my heavy breathing is cut shorter into smaller, more controlled breaths. I am no longer in hell and have found myself in my hospital bed.
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