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Madison Scott-Clary
2019-12-29 16:01:25 -08:00
parent 5c3ad186dd
commit 3a255f9eee
2 changed files with 18 additions and 19 deletions

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@ -60,4 +60,21 @@ You spent all that time polishing your will. How could you begin
to deny the death-thoughts inherent in a nine-hour surgery?
That you didn't still leaves you feeling like you're living a forgery
of a life.</blockquote>
</pre>
But then I was in. I was in that room with surprisingly green walls.
The nurses dropped me off, and from down those hidden halls
came surgeon, anaesthesiologist, what seemed like dozens of people.
"Here, hold this over your face," someone said as a needle
wandered into my Iv's injection port. "It's just oxygen."
My hand began to slip. Oxygen? Some sort of intoxicant?
They laughed, repeated, "No no, you have to hold it up."
Perhaps it was O2, but whatever was injected began to interrupt
any train of thought. The jazz music they'd put on, at my request,
was overwhelmed by static. My vision followed. Silence: blessed.
Speed: surprising. Is this death? A rush of nothing. Is this death?
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Is this death? Nothing. Is this death?
Nothing.
<blockquote>Nothing. Was this death? Nothing, death? Nothing, nothing. Nothing.
Death? Was this death? Nothing. There was nothing. Death? Nothing.
Silence. Static. Nothing. Death. Death. Silence. Death.
Static. Static. Silence. Static. Death, static. Death.
And then you woke up.</blockquote></pre>