Have you ever envisioned your final moments? A death fantasy, as they say. I, for once, had never indulged in such thoughts. The idea of ever ceasing to exist was too daunting to even contemplate. And whenever I ‘d been on the verge of giving up, life dangled a carrot in front of me, a glimmer of hope, and I’d relent like a docile rabbit. I wasn’t suicidal or anything, I was just human. And wasn’t it a universal knowledge that it hurt some time to be made of flesh? Still, I didn’t want to die.
But as I was being wheeled through the bustling corridors of what I assumed was a hospital, surrounded by medical personnel in scrubs and the antiseptic cocktail of bleach and disinfectant, I felt the grains of time slipping away. The line between life and death was growing thinner. Instead of panicking, I was serene as ever. Maybe it was the pain meds or maybe it was the cold embrace of my end. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder, how had I gone from being the epitome of good health to this, in a span of two hours?
All I remembered was the dinner, my golden jubilee celebrations. I’d been the happiest woman alive, in an age that my parents had only dreamt of but never graced. It’d been a euphoric evening, surrounded by people I cherished the most, family and friends I’d met on the winding road of life. There had been a lot of sappy speeches, tears of joy and peals of laughter that filled the air. Wine flowed freely, tables brimmed with food and cake was everywhere.
We danced till our hearts were full, till our feet ached. And maybe that was it? Perhaps my bones had given out on the dance floor, or I’d eaten something I shouldn’t, allergies and all. Not that I remembered anything. Most of the night was lost to me, just a blurry montage of fragmented images slipping through my mind like sand through my fingers.
“Will she be okay?” A voice, low and gravelly, cut through the hazy veil of my consciousness. My husband. But nothing was said, the answer remained firmly shrouded in silence. What did that mean? Was I never going to wake up to his warm smile? Or fall asleep to his gentle snores? I wanted answers to questions I couldn’t voice. My body was still and unresponsive, trapped in an endless cycle of uncertainty and dread.
They took me to a quieter room, away from the cacophony of the busy halls. Then they started stripping me, I felt their gloved hands delicately attaching wires and tubes to my body. I couldn’t fathom why I even needed any of it. Hell, what was even wrong with me? This feeling of helplessness washed over me again, and it only intensified as the machines beeped and hummed to life. If death was really at my stomp, I deserved that much. To know how I left this life I’d forged for fifty years.
“Let’s leave her here, it’ll be two hours until she’s gone,” My blood chilled, they couldn’t mean any of the callous words. My heart pounded with fear and confusion as I strained to get more of the whispered conversation.
“What? We can’t just let her die,” a man protested.
“Neither can we let her live. A hefty donation has been made to the hospital, and whatever little change that remains will grace our bank accounts once she’s cold and gone,” What? I struggled to open my eyes, but the little of the world I saw repulsed me. Too much light. Too much cruelty.
“Who could possibly want her dead?” There was that voice of reason again, stuttering out the right questions, again. He must be an intern, otherwise he’d not have questioned the ropes with such naivety. I wasn’t a saint, but the thought that someone had it out for me was unfathomable.
“Everyone waiting outside, perks of holding the keys to a billion dollar empire. How do you think she ended up in this condition? The woman was poisoned, Junior,” But. . . I . . . I didn’t have a billion dollar empire. I was just a simple housewife, with a husband who’d just retired from a humble government job and two daughters who hadn’t even married into wealth. I tried speaking, to clear out the misunderstanding, but the words remained stuck in my throat, to my frustration.
“B-But we’re doctors. We took an oath,” I couldn’t see the face that matched the voice, but still I was grateful. For his presence. For the sincerity and desperation in his voice. A glimmer of light in this dark tunnel, a small flame of hope in a sea of uncertainty and devilry. Life’s carrot.
“Am too starved to even remember any of the words. Something about Hypocrisy? How does it go again, Junior?” His voice was laced with malice. The bastard. Tears fell from my eyes, pools of the despair I couldn’t voice. A whirlwind of emotions. More hushed conversation ensued before the doors were closed, before Junior was convinced to let me be. Before I was left to die, alone and desolate in a dimly lit room, trapped in my own body, with machines that did little to give me hope or life. And the moment cut deeper than whatever was killing me.
If I ever had a death fantasy, I’d prefer anything to this. I’d want someone to fight to keep me alive, defibrillator and pleading. Trying till the end to defy the tides of fate. Not painless or powerless or as alone as I was now, a victim of circumstances, drifting through the chasm that separated life and death.
