I’ll never forget the odor filling my nostrils as I opened my eyes to fuzzy darkness….that distinct chemical carpet smell coupled with the latest fruity deodorizer.
Oh, right. I spent the weekend in the hospital from a head on collision that was my fault.
I picked myself up from the floor of my second story bedroom. Intense and crippling pain in my side. A call to a friend, a trip to the hospital where I was supposed to get surgery on my hand that was broken this very day.
I stumble in. I’m in a bed as I try to explain between piercing breathes why I’m there and what is happening.
I’m bleeding internally. I can hardly breath.
Ambulance ride to the trauma unit at the downtown hospital. As if shit weren’t real enough already.
Parents were called, first time they even saw me since the accident 4 days ago. They didn’t even know.
It’d be so easy to disappear sometimes. Right place, right time.
Punctured liver that was missed, bleeding out for days. The Dr claimed I was hours within dying.
Is that what dying feels like?
They said it was. Hours.
Was that 120 minutes? Or more?
What if we only had the next 120 minutes?
Would it be a good day to try?