ANOTHER WORLD By Marion Twyman

I used to live in another world, but I’ve been in this one for quite a while now. I’ve forgotten quite a lot about the other one, but I am reminded of parts of it when I see people from it. I’ve got quite used to this one now, but I get so bored!

I didn’t realise I’d end up in another world that day I had that terrible blinding pain in my head, and blacked out. When I woke up, I still had dreadful pain, and my eyelids were just parted a small fraction so I could just about see. But I couldn’t move. Not a single muscle. I was breathing, and I could see and hear, but I couldn’t speak or even grunt to let them know I was alive. I had tubes in my throat and nose which were mighty uncomfortable, but otherwise I was just like a rag doll. I gradually realised I was in a hospital from the nurses around me, touching me, moving me, and worst of all talking about me.

The place was a bit like Charing Cross station, very busy, and quite noisy, with bleepers and buzzers going off all the time, not much chance for a decent night’s sleep. No chance of privacy either, and my dignity was quickly tom to shreds as both male and female nurses stripped and washed me, then redressed me in the most unbecoming loose gowns. An assortment of people came to sit beside me, holding my hand and talking to me in hushed tones, sometimes accompanied by sniffng and quiet weeping. I recognised my mother and brother, and several friends and acquaintances, but some I didnt know from Adam, I think they were just rubbernecking, getting their kicks in a very strange way. Luckily they gradually got fed up and stopped coming, and several so called friends didn’t come many times either, so nowadays only my mum and brother and two very dear friends visit me regularly. I wouldn’t recommend this as a way to discover who your true friends really are !

I managed to learn an awful lot about myself and my condition, which they called ‘Locked In Syndrome’ and inside I was screaming my comments in reply, but of course no one could hear me, it was so frustrating. I used to scream out too when they covered me up with a blanket, and I could feel myself getting hotter and hotter and could do absolutely nothing about it, I just had to wait till they removed it again. The same applied when I was uncomfortable, tough luck until it was time to be moved again. I was attached to a machine that seemed to control my breathing, and they fed me through those tubes too. I couldn’t taste it but they told my mother it was liquid chock full of vitamins and nutrients to keep me healthy. Oh come on ! What about some chocolate or nice vinegary chips for a change !

They have moved me now, and I’m in a much nicer place, not so busy and noisy. My mother still comes every day, but yesterday she started to cry. I’d have dearly love to comfort her, tell her I’m not in pain and apart from the boredom, I’m quite happy, but of course, I couldn’t. She had been talking to a very serious man in a white coat before she sat beside me. She held my hand as she cried, and when she left she kissed me and said Goodbye’ which I thought was a little strange, as she usually said “See you tomorrow”.

A few minutes ago, three tall men came and stood round the bed. They watched me as a nurse detached my feeding tube. ‘What’s going on?’ I thought. Then

she switched off the machine that has been helping me breath. “Hey, you can’t do that” I tried to shout “Switch that on again you idiot Hey……………”

About highamwriters

A group of recreational creative writers and if you ask us nicely we will let you publish some of our work
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