I Can’t
I’m feeling really cold. It penetrates to the marrow of my bones. Uncomfortable, and in pain. I’m shivering. Every part of my body is tired, I can barely move. My head is killing me and my legs and my chest too. I’m trying to open my eyes but the light is stopping me. The smell, the smell of an overly clean room, the strong chemical smell.
Thirsty, I try to swallow. Gosh, something is in my throat and I don’t know what it is. It hurts and suffocating with the contraction of my throat. After many attempts to open my eyes along with the dizzy sensation, I can finally adjust to the bright lights. Where am I? I see endless white ceiling tiles with huge rectangular metal frame with long bright light bulbs. I try to look around, but I can’t turn my head. Everything seems to be white here, I think I’m lying in snow.
But wait, I’m a medical student, I know this place, I know this smell. A hospital.
As I’m looking to my right side my vision is starting to get blurry, I blink a few times to clear my vision. I see nobody. Then I look to my left, it’s getting blurry again but I can see a figure of someone and a bunch of monitors and machines. Why am I so tired just by looking around? I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Every moment even breathing is so painful I’m starting to panic. I’m trying to think, but I can’t, I don’t know what to think about. My head hurts and everything is starting to turn around. Then I try to move my right leg but I can’t, it’s crucially painful that I don’t want to try and move it again. Same goes with my left leg. What is going on?
Now I’m really thirsty, I move my jaws and let out a sound to get somebody’s attention so they can help me. Two women dressed in the same blue colour, the nurse, staring wide-eyes at me. One woman shining a light into my eyes and lifts up my eyelids. I don’t know how loud I am groaning or screaming through the tube inside my throat that made them look like something is wrong with me. I’m confused, they look even more confused. The other one poked her face in front of me, but what is she trying to do? Her lips moving, hands waving.
Then I realise. I can’t hear her.
Worse than that is I can’t even hear myself!
The two women walk away.
I’m starting to drift off.
When I regain consciousness again, a man in white with a stethoscope is standing beside me. I try to make some noises. And again, he looks puzzled and it tells me that something is not right and he’s trying to figure it out. He’s moving around like he’s gesturing something. Then I realise again that I cannot hear anything. Tears start to build up in my eyes combined with my bad vision make it harder to see. A little warm stream of water flows down both corners of my eyes, down my temple, and is filling my ears. Every emotion hits me all at once, fear, confusion, pain trembling all over my body.
Staring the ceiling in complete silence, I feel lonely, it is terrifyingly quiet yet, so peaceful. It’s frightening not being able to hear or communicate with anybody including myself. But I can hear my own thoughts, I’m hearing my voice talking to myself. At this moment, I’m thinking of how the little birds chirp in the morning at my window, thinking of all sounds because I miss them so much. I’m not sure if I’m screaming or not or what sort of sound am I making. I’m thinking of the splashing of waves at the beach, roaring back and forth, back and forth rhythmically. The sizzling sound of cooking bacon on the frying pan. The whistling of wind passing by my ears on a windy day. The pitter patter sound of each rain drop on a concrete floor.
But the sound I need to hear the most is my mother. I can’t imagine my life without hearing her anymore, the first voice I heard since I opened my eyes to see this world. The voice who sings me lullaby, telling me stories, teaching me to talk when I was young. And the voice who scolded me for not doing the dishes, for waking up late for school.
I’m not sure how hard am I crying right now.
Suddenly, I feel a warm touch on my left cheek. The gentle, warm, and loving touch that I am familiar with. Slowly and carefully wiping tears away from my cheek. Trying to see through watery eyes is difficult. I blink really hard and at the moment I open my eyes, contrasting with the white background and bright light a blurry figure of a woman appears. Light brown hair, knitted maroon sweater. As it becomes clearer, it’s my mother. Thank goodness that she’s here with me. I’m relieved yet, worried. I call her many times and I can see that she’s saying something. I’m trying to read her lips but I can’t figure out what she’s saying. I’m dying to hear her voice. Her comfort, her support. I can see that she is crying, but how hurtful it is to not hear your own mother cry. This is probably the most painful moment I have ever experienced in the entire nineteen years of my life
After a few minutes of trying to read my mother’s lips and suffering watching her cry, five or six people are crowding into the room with my mother. My throat is hurting badly, not sure if it’s because of the ventilator support or myself screaming trying to communicate. Everybody is looking confused and busy rushing in and out, around my bed, and talking to my mother, comforting her. I’m reaching out my hand for my mother. I realise how many tubes and needles are attached to me.
While suffering from the pain in every inch of me and feeling like my head is being compressed a flashback comes into my mind. I was driving home enjoying the sky all ablaze with a gradient of magenta, pink, and purple sunset ahead of me, singing to James Blunt’s You’re Beautiful. I was so happy.
“You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful it’s true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don’t-
Suddenly, in the corner of my eye, I saw a truck verging upon the right side of my car. I saw it coming. I thought it would stop. I can’t remember being hit, but I remember the pain when the airbag blasted into my face and chest. Before I can react , everything blacked out.
The End.
