I struggle to open my eyes, but my eyelids feel as if they’ve been sewn together. Giving up I let them lie closed, what do I really want to see anyway? I try to engage my other senses...aren’t they meant to be heightened when you can’t use one or something... I can’t hear anything except a distant whirring, no idea what that is...some kind of machine, that much is obvious. But in this world that could be anything from a remote control car to a fridge. My sheets feel a little scratchy, that’s weird, my mum’s such a freak for that kind of thing...they’re usually wonderfully soft- not to mention expensive. Oh wait, I’ve missed the obvious...what’s that smell? Oh no. Please no. I wrench my eyes open, uncaring about the pain as the sleep rips my eyelashes out at the roots...glaring white from every direction the sterile landscape greets me. My worst nightmare a doctor in a white coat, almost camouflaged against the stark white, blinking back at me from the end of my bed. The pieces simultaneously click into place, the scratchy linen, too starchy to be the thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets my mother favours. The slight whirring emanating from numerous machines keeping patients suspended in a place between life and death. And of course the cloying, saccharine hint of disinfectant riding the air waves which had alerted me to the predicament I was in. I’m in hospital, my worst nightmare, and just like that everything comes back...I guess it makes sense that the paramedics brought me here, duh, why didn’t I think of that at the time? But of course I know why I didn’t consider this outcome...it’s because I saw this story playing out very differently; I thought my mother would be wearing black already.
"Rose."
I look up, briefly startled, that's right...you're still here. I look closer, all I saw before was the white coat...and it scared me more than just about anything could. Now I register the aging guy in front of me, silver at the temples with dark serious eyes that are searching my face..."So, Rose, do you want to tell me why you're here?" Typical. Psychologist, I should have guessed, he definitely looks the part. "As if you don't know" I mumble, in a way that surely comes across as sullen, but I just want the games to stop. He knows what led to me being here, at least medically anyway, why dance around the truth.
