It looks the same. Nothing's changed since that one day. Patients still come and go; they live and they die. Sometimes it's out fault and sometimes it's not. But that one day, that one surgery…There was fault. And nothing can be normal after that.
I pace and I pace. I look around, trying to uncover the old similarities. But everything's changed. The once sturdy and arguably safe gurney now seems rickety and outdated. The top-of-the-line surgical equipment has the guise of a torturer's inventory. The scalpels, which once felt as if molded to my skin, a living part of me, are now doing their job-cutting me open, inch by inch. Memory by memory. Minute by minute.
The freedom I once felt within this room is gone-now I feel imprisoned within it's deep and dark chambers. The viewing both above, like a spectator's box for my ceaseless and ironic persecution. The scrub room has grown dark, its gently rattling pipes sound ominous and frightening as the faucet switches on and off. The surgical masks worn have become blindfolds-cutting me off from others and from my senses. Trapping me in my once-reality, my constant state of mind. My terror.
What do I do when the one place I cherished above all others has become my own personal hell? The one place I wanted access into above all others? Where do I go when the one place I wanted so desperately to be included into has become filled with horrors, the shouts and screams of those who believe they're going to die? How can you move on when you're stuck in the past, stuck in a memory that takes over at just the wrong moments? Memories that scare you so much you can't think. Can't move.
Sometimes you can't even breathe.
How do you learn to breathe when you can barely stand to think?
review please and tell me what you think.
-the,eye,does,not,SEE