i had been given a few sedatives and fallen asleep. unbeknownst to me, in the middle of the night, a room had opened up - someone had been let free - and i was moved from an airless, windowless space with millimeters of tissue-thin material separating me from a woman on one side with simultaneous influenza and bronchitis and a mute man on the other side whose appendix was on the verge of explosion. i had instantaneously fallen asleep. the cna watching over me rocked slowly back and forth in her chair, the slightest hint of tears in her eyes, slumped shoulders and a questioning but tight-lipped mouth. i resented her for her unwanted pity - i had done this to myself, after all, i was not worthy of her pity - and resolved to ignore her completely. i feigned sleep for about ten full minutes. iit seemed like ten full hours - i heard every nurse's sneakered step on the yellowed linoleum floor, every patient's sheets rustle, every sigh exhaled by loved ones. i was alone... except... not.
this new room on the fifth floor was my own - entirely for me, equipped with windows on three sides and my own bathroom. pinpricks from the many shots i had received since arriving made bruised constellations up and down my arms. an iv dripped, dripped, dripped who knows what into a blue vein. a necessary addition to my bloodstream for fifteen full days, its mark is permanently left on my forearm. scarred tissue about three-quarters of an inch in diameter still remains. a reminder. it has been four full months (122 days, but who's counting).
i didn't want to see anybody. i refused to accept visitors. i wanted to be alone. but i couldn't. a cna was always literally right next to me, an arm's distance away, watching. just.... watching. a personal spectator critiquing the patient. most took my hints and remained silent. one tried to make small talk ("so, what'd you do to get here?"). i didn't even so much as look at him. i closed my eyes and eventually - a few hours later - fell asleep.
there was not enough space in the room for my loneliness and me and this uninvited, unwanted guest. one had to go. in retrospect, i am lucky the loneliness departed first.