This is the hour of lead
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow--
First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.

-Emily Dickinson

-------------------------------------

What felt like hundreds and hundreds of years later, I opened my eyes.

Even stagnate, I could feel the passing of time.

I could also hear and comprehend, but I just couldn't see or respond.

Three long days of darkness and muffled sound.

And then suddenly, light was flooding through the cracks in my eyelids, and then there were shapes. Fuzzy, but subsisting nonetheless. And then came colors, filtering bright and beautiful, and then movement, slow and unfamiliar, and finally speech and awareness.

But not memory.

Let's review:

Nine pills of Fluoxetine Hydrochloride lack of motor stimulus to the brain. Lack of motor stimulus to the brain cancellation of basic neurological functions. Cancellation of basic neurological functions discontinuation of hemoglobin from the lungs. Discontinuation of hemoglobin from the lungs prolonged hypoxia. Prolonged hypoxia permanent brain damage or death.

Day three of the coma the nurse came in to break this news to my visitors. She was a pretty nurse. Young, blonde, solemn.

"Four hours," She said, "With minimal oxygen being delivered to the brain is a very dire situation."

She stops for them to sob.

"He's not going to die-" She stops again as sighs of relief push through the air. "But there is-" She purses her thin lips and turns away slightly. "Permanent brain damage..."

…Ooohhh fuck.

I can hear you. Keep talking you bastard. Wake me up. Wake me up. Wake me up!

"Based on the M.R.I. there's going to be retrograde amnesia."

"What?" Someone squeaks.

"He's going to have trouble remembering things prior to when he wakes up. Memory distrust. He'll remember some things, and not others. And not necessarily in the right order."

What? WHAT? Amnesia? When I wake up? Oh you fucking bastard. I wanted to die.

That was the point. It was the fucking point!

And then came the light. Dear God no.

What? Light? No! No this isn't right! I'm supposed to be in a coma! I'm supposed to be DYING! I am a fucking vegetable, okay? I don't want to wake up.

-

I'm awake.

There are people. All around me people.

Every single one of them gasps as I open my eyes.

Holy shit, what?

What is going on?

Where am I who are they what the fuck?

I am seized with panic and it won't let go.

I try focusing on each face. No feature is distinct. I look from person to person, honing in, but I can't place anyone. I can't even move. My tongue laps around like a sponge, blocking my throat. I forget how to breathe.

Shit.

Tears well up in my eyes and I try to scream something at them. They need to help me. Speak!

But I can't. My eyes dart down the row of people, until- her. I know her.

"Mom?"

I asked the question. I'm sure I did. But my voice won't work.

I frown.

She reaches out and squeezes my hand.

"Hi honey." She whispers.

I push up on my elbows, straining to sit up, to stand up, something. The oxygen tube tugs ferociously at my throat, and the covers jam around my chest.

To my right, the heart monitors whine and beep and scream at me to sit back down.

My eyes shoot wide open. The noise in my ears is too much. What the fuck is that?

More panic.

Make it stop! Oh my God.

I try to stand. I throw my legs over the side of the bed and grab at my ears and my mom is hollering, "Nurse, nurse!" and at the same time she's hissing, "Honey, lay back down." But I can't, I gotta stand I have to go I wanted to die.

"He's scared." Someone sobs, and suddenly there's a big strong hand on my chest and I'm being pushed back onto the pillow, down into the bed. And as quickly as it started, it stops. The oxygen tube lets up and my throat is open and I inhale. Slowly the monitors wind down and it's quiet again.

I can hear my heart. My chest heaves underneath the rumpled blanket. I am pressed against the headboard as if I'm taking off in a fucking rocket.

I can't blink.

I can't remember.

Again, I can't.