Phoenix

PHOENIX

 ‘You flat-lined for 19 seconds’ the gentle handed man- who was sat on the edge of my bed - said.

Not the usual response you expect when waking up. But there he was, gently tapping my hand. Informing me that the day before...I died! But he and his colleague had saved me. Now I know what you must be thinking...what did I die of? Well blood loss...I think! The gentle handed man did say I also needed a full blood transfusion. So I assume that ‘death’ happened around the same time. The pain in my chest was from the defibrillator. Never did I think when seeing it being used on TV. That it would hurt so bloody much. I felt like someone had knelt on my chest for a lifetime.

So there I was lying in bed being tapped on the hand whilst trying to get my head round my ‘death’. Have you ever stopped still and counted 19 seconds...it takes ages!! I did wonder if at any point the gentle handed man or his colleague thought...

‘Oh sod it, she’s dead...lets just leave it, we can be in the pub by 12’

I have to admit. I’m very glad that they chose not to ‘sod it’. I think I fell in love with that gentle handed man on my bed. He told me I had second chance at life and must make every bit of his life-saving certificate count. So I lay there thinking about what I could do. Being as right now I couldn’t even tell if I was peeing myself or not. The future did not look bright.

The gentle handed man has gone on his rounds. He’s left me lying, thinking, planning, and weighing up the pros and cons of a lifestyle ‘change’. I was thinking my life had changed. No longer could I develop a little person inside me. There was no womb for it. I’d spent decades trying with no success. I’d had years of pain from the development of a lesser known disease I caught after the birth of my son. Now I was relieved.

Later that day, I attempted to eat some ‘nutritious food’ which basically involved slurping down some red jelly stuff and being sick afterwards. Even so I did manage to roll myself out of bed. Whilst attached by a thin clear tube to the hat-stand that housed a bag of fluid. This clear liquid had been dripping into my arm ever since my ‘death’. Hat-stand had become a permanent fixture. I loved Hat-Stand with its bag of fluid. Which was good as it was to be my companion for the next few days. Anyway, after rolling out of bed...I went to the shower room. Lifting the yucky nightie I had to wear for modesty sakes. I glanced at the black n blue mess that was my stomach. I cried.

The event that followed reminded me of potty training my son, although could have done without the ‘how to’ instructions. The need to go but endless waiting as the body refuses to let go. Needless to say a long while later I emerged. Relieved!

I’d been told by the gentle handed man. I needed to walk around, not lie in bed all the time. My brain was saying ‘hang on a cotton pigging minute...I did die you know, in bed is exactly where I want to be’. But the gentle handed man insisted...telling the blue clothed woman not to feed me till I’d walked. So Hat-Stand and I went for a walk. All the way to the end of the corridor and all the way back again. A forty foot round trip that in future would take me a few minutes. Today however...half an hour! Passing the windows of my shared room, I could see sad, painful looks. Sick women lying on their beds, attempting to watch TV with no sound as one had just been brought back from theatre...she was snoring!

At lunchtime I was sat at the table awaiting my walks reward. A large male entered with a silver trolley that smelt great. As I died the day before, my lunch was the choice of whomever. It comprised of brown stuff next to white stuff. A glass of juice, at least I think it was juice, and a pot of red jelly like stuff. I gave that a miss. I played with my ‘food’ like I was 6 years old again. Childlike, I made swirly patterns by mixing the brown and white stuff together to make lighter brown stuff. Painkillers rock!

At 2 o’ clock a woman in white came in. She turned off the silent TV. Closed the curtains and informed us that it was ‘nap time’. Sixty minutes rest before the families arrive. As I had been ‘active’ the thought of going back to sleep was annoying. I told the woman in white that I didn’t want to sleep as I had slept and died yesterday. Today with the help of painkillers I wanted to live. She was having none of it. I napped.

When I woke, I asked if it was possible to go for a shower. Yellow stuff was coating my black n blue stomach. I felt mucky, dirty, like I’d been buried in custard. It had got into all the cracks. ‘If you’re careful of your stitches’ the blue clothed woman said. Hat-stand and I showered.

The gentle handed man came back just before the next round of red jelly stuff. He sat on the edge of my bed. He asked me how I’m feeling and had I walked, eaten and been to the bathroom. He is so polite. I love him. I said I felt ok but in a lot of pain. He replied with ‘take it easy, don’t rush, and give yourself time to heal’. I have all the time in the world...I said.  

The large male with the silver trolley passed the gentle handed man in the doorway. I walked to the table and waited. The six year old inside already had knife n fork in hand, waiting to mix and mash the colours to make yuck! The adult outside was hoping there were other colours being served. Who got their wish? Yes you guessed it! YUCK!

The shared room takes on a mystical appearance in the evening hours. The snorer was awake but quiet. The TV had some volume but only if you were sat under it.  The hands on the clock counted down to family time.  I wondered if there was somewhere I could go. Somewhere quiet, away from families. I didn’t want to nap. I didn’t want to be visited. I wanted to think. I wanted to plan. The fire exit door brought a welcomed cool breeze.

The families had gone when I returned to the shared room. The TV was silent. The snorer was well....snoring! Jigsaws and books filled the spaces in the other women’s heads. I sat on my bed. I lay a hand on my stomach. The painkillers had worn off enough for me to feel pain.  I cried.

The woman in blue brought my daily pills and changed the bag on Hat-Stand. I lay quietly on my bed till the warm pill blanket covered me. I closed my eyes. The gentle handed man would be here soon. My mood lifted.

The gentle-handed man’s voice was kind and soft.

‘How do you feel?’ he whispered.

I opened my eyes.

‘Alive’ I said.

©Mills Laine