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The alarm clock sounded at 5 o'clock that morning. I stumbled out of bed, the first time I did not use the 'snooze' button. It was to be the last day of my life as I knew it, and I must be prepared.
Refusing breakfast by order, I grabbed my duffel and headed to the forest-green BMW that sat majestically in the garage. It was there my family congregated to accompany me to my doom.
* * * * *
It was near the end of my eighth grade year when I discovered the surgery that I was to undertake. It was to be at the end of the summer, August 12, merely 2 months after my 14th birthday. At the time, it seemed a distant dragon, slumbering quietly, but soon it became an unvanquishable beast, stealing my dreams and becoming the master of my nightmares.
* * * * *
The hour-long trip was uneventful, yet grueling. It seemed like an eternity; every beat from the stereo drowned by the beating of my heart. Yet such an eternal ride could not prepare me for what was to come.
The hospital was everything it was meant to be: a large sterile building full of sick and injured people. The smell of crackers and softened cereal filled the air, the cuisine for those who resided there.
Silently, I followed the candy striper to my room, a few doors from the operating room. There I was allowed a few moments to myself before the doctors came in to seal my fate. I sat on the hospital-issue cot and closed my eyes. My mind began to drift into the unknown, the darker thoughts drifting in. What was to happen? I wasn't sure, but I knew I didn't want to have anything to do with it.
I looked at the solid oak door. Stealing a glance outside, I noticed all of the nurses were busy with paperwork and checking on other patients. I silently closed the door and grabbed my duffel. Without a sound, I opened the door again and slid out. Within a few minutes, I had made my way out of the wing and into the main lobby. Seconds later I was outside the hospital altogether.
The fresh air filled my lungs, a pleasant change from the classic sterile smell mixed with stale crackers associated with hospitals. I stood for a few moments, taking in the air and my surroundings. Huge trees surrounded the hospital plaza, the green and brown contrasting beautifully with the pinks, purples, and blues of the morning sky.
I left the plaza, then headed for the unknown. I knew I had to leave, and fast, or else the nurses would find me and force me back to my doom. Lost in suck a huge city, I went to the only place I knew of, a small Mexican restaurant a few blocks from the hospital.
I didn't know I was running until I felt the sun-warmed concrete on my knees and the palms of my hands, the result of my shattering fall. I stood, brushing the dirt and small rocks from my hands and knees, and inspected my wounds. Noting the abrasions, I simply shrugged them off and continued on my way, considerably more carefully.
The restaurant was now mere footsteps away. Sounds of laughter and merry conversation filled my ears as I came closer. I stepped inside; a rush of air-conditioned air blew on me, chilling me to my bones.
Immediately I was seated, and the young waiter brought me my soft drink. I closed my eyes as I sampled the drink. The sugary-sweet liquid flowed swiftly, tickling and nearly burning with strong carbonation.
In the background, the clatter of dropped dishes was heard.
My eyes popped open.
In astonishment and fear, I glanced around. My hands and knees were no longer scrapped, and there was no longer a drink in front of me. It occurred to me that I was no longer in the restaurant, but suddenly back in the hospital room. The jolt of dropped dishes was in actuality a knock on the door; the anesthesiologist had arrived to prepare me for what lay ahead.
Sighing, I reluctantly allowed the doctor to do his work. There was simply nothing I could do. As I slowly fell into unconsciousness, I tried to remember my brief adventure, but within seconds I was anesthetized.
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