Wednesday May 17, 2006

…hear the the sounds of Life…

The scene unfolds…

A life of movies can’t but influence how you see the world. The first things are sounds. Instructions. I don’t understand them, but they are reassuring. My eyes open, and the afternoon light comes through. I see dark blue, and Andrew worried. I have no clue what told me he was worried, but I knew that before my eyes were open.
I am turned over on my back, with hands all over. There are hands on my head, on my shoulders, and on back itself. They strap me to the board so tight that it hurts the back of my head.

I wonder if my life was being watched in the theater, what would happen during this scene? Would the girl on the left have her hands over her mouth and nose? Would the one on the right grab the hand of her date a little tighter? Would some one appreciate the art in it all? See the planning of the shot? Of the sound engineers that mixed the sound? Would anyone see the visionary’s vision of death to resurrection? See the yellow turn into the green? And know what that means?

How would the visionary show this to others? The lost of time. How do you film sleep? How do you film dreams? How do you film death? And how do you convey the feeling I had of ‘oh wow, what a strange dream?’ on film? Things that are happening get instantly transferred into memory, then recalled as a dream. And as all dreams fade, during this scene, this one does too and now becomes more real. And how do you show the length of time it took? In a movie, it would have to be done in about 30 seconds, or it will be too long. Now because more now for each minute until I woke up the next day. How do I show the insanity of every minute being clearer than the one before? For four whole hours? Each new sentence brought new revelation. Each blink brought clearer vision.

The oxygen in my nose is cold. I breathe deeply and think about it. I don’t remember oxygen being put in my nose, but that doesn’t matter besides as back story. My main thoughts now revolve around that it feels good and I should relax. As I relax, I think that only old people have oxygen. I picture my Grandma in her blue chair with her tubes in her nose, tubes like I now I am breathing through. I feel the air that is getting in, around the oxygen, I know that I don’t need the oxygen, but my head hurts too bad to tell the person that I don’t need it.

My head hurts in the back right where it meets the stretcher board. I know that pain, and I know that it would go away if my head wasn’t strapped so tight. But my neck scares me. It hurts too. From the back of my head to my shoulder joints hurts. I don’t want to move it. My lower back has some scratches and I wonder if I bleed much. Not until later in the hospital did I get to see it. It wasn’t bad at all, it didn’t feel bad. I just wanted to know if it bleed a bunch cause that would be cool. I kind of hear Janae in the front talking to Andrew. I hear the lady that is with me talk on the radio to the hospital or something.

How do I convey that? How do I relate the delirium that I was in when I was getting my cat scan to being really tired and still going to the audience in the theater? How I felt when I FORMed the techs, and the nurse? And how the fear of the scary elevator that my bed didn’t fit down very well? And how that the thought of ‘how did I get up there in the first place’ or ‘they didn’t have this much trouble getting me up’ didn’t occur to me?

The look on my dad’s face would be easy though.

say to the broken man, o’ rise up and dance again,
say to the blind man, open up your eyes,
say to the barren woman, you are the happy mother of children,
say to the orphan, you have a father and a friend.

5 thoughts on “Wednesday May 17, 2006

  1. I_Love_Goats

    Yeah… Top Gun IS hard. On the “Second Mission” game, you have to fly through a bunch of trees on one mission lol. Lemme tell ya, it’s hard. I think maybe I got through it ONCE when I was a wee youngin’, and I was very proud of myself.

    Maybe I should go back in time and get a really big dinosaur to eat my school…. yeah, that’d work!

  2. Passive_Spastic

    Ah!  So good and so bad.  Sometimes I see you there.  Lying on the road with the dark blue night setting in.  My hand on you praying like a prophet.  Or sometimes when it hits me really bad I remember getting up with that ridiculous smile on my face the one that I use when I am not sure what other way to act.  I smile as I get up because I am hoping everything is alright.  I turn and I see you and call your name “Andrew” in a tone of jest.  Joking, I think you think it would be funny to just lay there and make us think you were hurt.  And then I quicken my pace because I see something might be wrong.  No, now something is definately wrong, I am running on the gravel and it is sticking to my feet.  There are a few of those oak leaves with the needles on the edge of the leaf, they are stabbing my feet but I don’t care.  I get to you and you are shaking, eyes rolled up into the back of your head-  Then I can’t take anymore, I have to shut it out of my head because it is one of the very few things that I cannot think about.  Maybe one of the only ones.  I know these kind of thoughts are not from God so I push them out.  I try to find words to express my gratitude to the only One who saved you that day and I fail but He knows.  I want you to know I haven’t forgotten, I might even think of it as often as you.  And I want you to know that I am so glad, so incredibly lucky, and so unworthy that I am able to write these words and not say them at your funeral.


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