The Come Back Again

Will I Die?

***

How am I the next step? how can I bear this in my life? For a second I imagined myself getting well and getting out of here and coming home with my mom and dad and my mom. Of course, perhaps things will not be like this anymore for tomorrow. The atmosphere will be very awkward and sad. Anyway, I haven't decided what I'm going to do in the future. I still don't know how I can choose to stay or leave. Until I succeed in solving that problem, I must let the situation be in the hands of fate, or the doctors, he said, or anyone who decides on a problem like this when the person who should have chosen is too confused to choose the elevator or stairs.

I need the mango. I'm looking for a bug, but he's not here. I searched the hallway to the hospital but I didn't find it. I finally got back to where I started. Back in the ICU, I mean back next to my body.

I sit here all the time, too tired to move. I wish I could sleep. I wish there was some kind of dope for me, or at least something that would shut the world around me. I want to be like my body again, silent and unreacted and resigned in the hands of God. I have no power to make choices. I don't want this anymore, really. I don't want this, I look around the ICU, feel like a lunatic. But I'm sure all the sick people in this ward aren't happy here either.

But as soon as my shadow blurred, I saw a light there, very dazzling to me.

The doctors are back in my room. My situation is bad now. The doctor returned the surgery to me.I was again assisted by a ventilator, and once again my eyes were covered with tape. I also don't know what the function of the tape is. Because when we were in college, we were just practicing abdominal surgery, sort of like someone giving birth to a cesarean.

I began to become unconscious, my body seemed unable to do anything. Two nurses in charge of controlling my heartbeat, came to my bed and checked all my monitors. They said the numbers I now know. High blood pressure, oxygen intake, respiratory rate.

The surgery seemed so long ago, that the doctors were sweating a lot on his forehead. There is so much wrong with my body. Things are not going as normal as they always are. The doctor was confused as to what to do for me.

In that oversized room they fought for me. Their sweat returned. Blood, where it does not stir them to continue sewing and slicing and sucking dirty blood from my body. The floor even though the brush up to many times will not remove the traces of blood stains that I think have long.

Now that I'm having trouble breathing, the nurse has accelerated the oxygen for me. But it still doesn't help. The amount of liquids and gases and drugs they gave me. She was so worried about my condition that it did not respond to the drugs they had given her.