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Sunday, January 31, 2010

Plugged/Unplugged: Hospital Bed Memoirs #1

Saline - drips. Heart machine - beeps. TV - flicks. Paging Dr. Singh...Paging Dr. Singh. The clock - ticks. The respirator - hisses. Florescent light - emits. A man - screams. The nurses - rush. Death - ushers in. Pain - hushed. The lullaby - announces. Baby girl and boy - born. Paging Dr. Coleman.... Paging Dr. Coleman.

Ms. Douglass?"

What time is it...?

"Ms. Douglass?"

Is it still dark outside...?

"Ms. Douglass. I need to check your vitals."

"You don't need any more blood, do you?"

"I'm sorry...we do."

Of course they do...

"My apologies. Good morning," I offered with a sleepy smile. He smiled.

"Good morning to you," he replies. "Very nice pressure, Ms. Douglass. Do you want the lights out?"

"Yes thank you. Am I your last stop?" I suddenly remembered him from last night. Long hours.

"Almost, Ms. Douglass," he whispered. "Almost."

"Well, have a good day. Get some rest."

"Thank you Ms. Douglass." With a quick gesture he turned the light off. I turned my head into the pillow. He seemed to stop under the TV as if he was going to say something. He doesn't. He just reaches up and turns the dancing images off.

I touch the IV in my arm. It's still there waiting for that moment of emergency or dehydration. It feels like an outlet in a wall. At any given moment, they have access to my blood. I put my hand over it and say a prayer. The fears subside and I fall off into a dream.

A woman stands at the edge of my bed. I think I have seen her before. She is not a nurse. But, I have seen her before. The nurse is to the right of my bed. "Ms. Douglass...your not getting enough water. We have to hydrate you." I look at her and she is looking at my IV. I shake my head and cover the IV. "Ms. Douglass, we have to medicate you. Your heart is racing. Please Ms. Douglass, calm down!"

My breathing is heavy. I realize I can wake up. I focus on waking up. It's just a dream. I can wake up. The woman at the edge of my bed calls me with her eyes. I look at her and watch her hands extend all the way up the bed and stop over my heart. She tells the nurse that I am fine without saying anything. I don't know how she does this. It's just a dream...I can wake up. I'm falling...open.

She is doing something to me...but, I soon forget her. My heart is gone. No, its there...I'm just in it. And it is open and clear. It looks empty but feels so full and expansive. Each breathe invites peace. Each beat is just an echo of some other heart beating. I realize that I am sitting on a chair that is not there. I like it here. It feels warm like a hug; yet, there's so much space...

"Ms. Douglass?"

So much space...

"Ms. Douglass."

What time is it?

"I just need a sample of blood and you can go back to sleep."

I open my eyes, sit up and force a smile at the tech trying not to look at her blood basket. Vials, needles, alcohol pads, gauze, and something with the nerve to be named a butterfly. I focus on her face. Another nurse is with her. I see last night scribed on their faces. Long night for everyone, I bet.

"More blood," I exclaim initiating our morning ritual. "The doctor said my blood is low. It can't get any higher if ya'll keep taking it."

"I don't understand it either, Ms. Douglass," she laughs.

"Well...alright. Good morning."

"Good morning, Ms. Douglass."

"Can you find another vein? This one hurts."

"But, it's such a good vein," she laughs. "I can see it Ms. Douglass."

"It won't be good by the time I leave. And what's a a butterfly?"

"A very small needle for people with very small veins."

"Who do I have to talk to get one of those?"

"Next time, Ms. Douglass." She lets out a good chuckle. "Next time."

** 1st Photo is a sculpture by Victoria Fuller entitled Plugged In. Check her out at http://objectartist.com/index.html **

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Inside

"The color of springtime is in the flowers, the color of winter is in the imagination." ~Ward Elliot Hour

The silence of winter is full like a lover's sigh beckoning me back to bed. I don't particularly like winter; however, I can appreciate its call to go back in.

Thank you God for wrapping my house in a blanket of snow and keeping me inside with my art and my friends and my thoughts. Thank you for gifting me one more day to work, play, and heal in the comfort of my home.

I appreciate this opportunity to embrace the nature's rhythm. I am glad to be in a space where I am not fighting the quiet or the solitude. There is a lot happening, right here - inside.