And you wont know why
I don't exactly remember my time in the hospital. It was during the summer between 8th and 9th grade -- at the moment I don't even have it in me to count back to what specific year that was.
I don't think I was scared. I don't think I had actually grasped the monumental procedure that was about to take place, because if I fully realized how my chest was about to be sawed and split and excavated I would have (should have) been petrified. But I do remember having to stand and walk to the room where they needed me, leaving my mother's side for the first time that day. I remember walking towards the lonely table... climbing up, getting down, pacing, speaking nonsense. (They had offered me brief whiffs of the gas mask in order to determine if I needed the gas 'flavoured' -- I still think those whiffs are responsible for my erratic behaviour and the lacunae in memory).
To calm me down, a nurse piled blankets/towels onto my chest. They were somewhat damp and hot -- burned at first, then slowly radiated through me, soothing as intended. I squirmed and I protested and I attempted to stave off the inevitable (is this what they call fight-or-flight? I wasn't successful at either), and the nurse just kept piling on more towels and holding my hand.
It is damn near twelve years later (I am stunned as I realize this) and I still cannot sleep, cannot feel relaxed or comfortable, without a weight on my chest -- a pillow, a heavy blanket, a cuddled arm or head. Of course, this is due to trauma; I was sliced and gutted and left with a weak and susceptible damage-point amidst my ribcage that I've been consciously and subconsciously protecting and defending each moment since. But I like to imagine that it was the blankets that caused this predilection of mine. A thirteen year old kid facing uncertainly, unconsciousness, the unknown, took comfort in the sensation of radiating, enclosing warmth in order to mentally survive.
I know that the premise behind reincarnation is often the fact that energy can neither be created nor destroyed. Will there be a child one day who buries themselves in pillows or stuffed animals in order to get to sleep, without explanation? Do you ever feel a twinge in a joint that you don't recall injuring, or a sudden inexplicable attraction to a person/place/thing that you've never experienced before?
I don't believe in reincarnation, I just like the thought (and really, what else is there?). All I know is, if your body is trying to tell you something... if something feels right against all logic, if there is an irrational, unmistakable pull for a specific action or person or thought somewhere in you... life is much more rewarding if you explore it.
Because something or someone that feels like Home can become it, if you're brave enough.
I don't think I was scared. I don't think I had actually grasped the monumental procedure that was about to take place, because if I fully realized how my chest was about to be sawed and split and excavated I would have (should have) been petrified. But I do remember having to stand and walk to the room where they needed me, leaving my mother's side for the first time that day. I remember walking towards the lonely table... climbing up, getting down, pacing, speaking nonsense. (They had offered me brief whiffs of the gas mask in order to determine if I needed the gas 'flavoured' -- I still think those whiffs are responsible for my erratic behaviour and the lacunae in memory).
To calm me down, a nurse piled blankets/towels onto my chest. They were somewhat damp and hot -- burned at first, then slowly radiated through me, soothing as intended. I squirmed and I protested and I attempted to stave off the inevitable (is this what they call fight-or-flight? I wasn't successful at either), and the nurse just kept piling on more towels and holding my hand.
It is damn near twelve years later (I am stunned as I realize this) and I still cannot sleep, cannot feel relaxed or comfortable, without a weight on my chest -- a pillow, a heavy blanket, a cuddled arm or head. Of course, this is due to trauma; I was sliced and gutted and left with a weak and susceptible damage-point amidst my ribcage that I've been consciously and subconsciously protecting and defending each moment since. But I like to imagine that it was the blankets that caused this predilection of mine. A thirteen year old kid facing uncertainly, unconsciousness, the unknown, took comfort in the sensation of radiating, enclosing warmth in order to mentally survive.
I know that the premise behind reincarnation is often the fact that energy can neither be created nor destroyed. Will there be a child one day who buries themselves in pillows or stuffed animals in order to get to sleep, without explanation? Do you ever feel a twinge in a joint that you don't recall injuring, or a sudden inexplicable attraction to a person/place/thing that you've never experienced before?
I don't believe in reincarnation, I just like the thought (and really, what else is there?). All I know is, if your body is trying to tell you something... if something feels right against all logic, if there is an irrational, unmistakable pull for a specific action or person or thought somewhere in you... life is much more rewarding if you explore it.
Because something or someone that feels like Home can become it, if you're brave enough.