shit happens

One day you’re sitting pretty, getting ready to go hit the fields and reap the harvest; long, healthy hair pulled back and bandana to keep it in place. Then the next moment you, and by you I really mean I, find yourself in an ambulance. The paramedic, who had prior to this ‘awaking’ told you his name, asks you tell him his name. Unfortunately, you do not recall having ever been given such a fact. He smiles and tells you his name again but oddly enough, again you forget it. Blur. Now you are being rolled into a room and being asked to get on a different bed that is part of a machine. You roll on or hop on, you don’t really know which one but you know that you do know that somehow, someway, you did manage to get on that bed. Then, your head is being scanned. Blur. You find yourself in a room. Blur. A series of people come and go. They claim to have told you their names before, but you do not remember. Blur. You realize that you have a piercing and commence to freak out … where did it come from! And why are you talking to yourself in French?

You see your clothes on a chair and realize that you are wearing one of those robes patients wear. Wait, how did you get out of your normal clothes? You don’t remember. What’s going on? You feel sad, you want to cry. Nothing makes bloody sense!

You are asked a series of personal questions. You answer as best you can. Confusion reigns. Why are you in a hospital?

Finally, you are told that you can go, that there will be a taxi waiting for you outside. You tell the person helping you that you can’t see. She tells you to follow the red arrows; they’ll guide you outside. “I can’t see any red errors! I’m blind!” you whimper – where are your glasses? So she accompanies you outside. You talk. She’s nice. You remember California … your self-imposed exile. Perhaps, instead of moving to Maryland, you ought to move back West.

You have yet to see your face … but that occurs much later. Exciting!