Coma
My head is swirling around. The ground is shifting back and forth, and the light of my eyes is switched off. Consciousness comes in cycles. People are yelling. I feel blood puddling up in my nose. I try to call out so someone, anyone who might hear me. My vocal chords are asleep. I lie there on that cold dark concrete wondering what in the world just happened to me.
I am conscious again. I still can’t see, but my ears seem to be working double time. I can hear everything: shoes clicking on the floor, people crying, and monitors beeping. I try to speak, but no sound comes out.
“Will she wake up?” It’s my mother’s voice. I wonder who she is talking about. Then an unfamiliar voice sounds in the room.
“It’s hard to tell, but honestly, it doesn’t look likely.” Whoever they are talking about must have gotten hurt pretty badly. My mother’s sobbing takes over the room.
“My poor Louisa!” Oh dear God! They are talking about me! I try to move, to make some sort of motion. I lay still where I am. I can’t speak! My eyes won’t work! Help me! I am awake! Oh, dear God! What happened! Someone is coming near me. I can hear it. They stand over my head. I feel breath on my face. I try to move again. Nothing happens.
“She is in a deep coma. Some come out of them, some don’t. Her brain is just trying to protect itself. When it feels safe, she’ll wake up.” The air stops coming, and the shoes go away. Why is this happening to me? I have to wake up. I am awake though aren’t I? It’s not my fault the rest of me doesn’t want to work. Come on brain! I am fine. Let me move! Let me communicate! Let me live!
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