by Mathias Scriptor

Created on: January 03, 2010

White lights, a white ceiling, and a white bed. A very bright place to wake from an hour long, drug induced coma. A feeling in my right side reminds me that I am still very much alive, and very much in pain. I attempt to glance up and get my bearings. Again the pain in my side, but this time another feeling; a touch I to which I was very accustomed; my mother was stroking my head.

            “Honey, how are you?” she questions worriedly.

            “Water,” I croak back. I was extremely thirsty; they told me this was because of the breathing tube that had been rudely sucking all the moisture out of my throat for almost an hour. However, much to my dismay, water was not allowed for another two hours. I had to settle instead for little pieces of ice, ‘ice chips’ the nurse called them. And that’s exactly what they were, little chips of ice; the farthest cry from sweet, cold, water that I could imagine. These ice chips would become my worst enemy for the coming hours.

            However, such is the case for a patient in the ICU recovering from surgery. The lead-up had been the worst - the antagonizing decision to even perform the surgery, the countless reassurances of doctors, the distinct feeling of dread in my stomach. It had been one of the most stressful times of my life. When the hour finally came, I had already been in the hospital for four days. As the bed with wheels carted me to the OR, I reflected. Why me? Why now? Was there a higher power testing me, or even punishing me? You see, it had been week five in my football season, and I was slated to start the game that week. Probably the worst timing for my right lung to partially collapse. They said it was caused by an untreated lung infection; others believed it spouted from my history of lung problems. I know ‘collapsed lung’ sounds awful, even life-threatening, however that was not my case. In fact, only two centimeters in the top right corner of the lung had actually collapsed, but the fear is that if some collapses, why not the entire thing. To prevent this, a mask had been strapped to my face, pumping 100% oxygen into my lungs. This may seem pleasant, but let me tell you it is not. Not to mention the nurse checks every two hours, including the wee hours of the morning; the X-ray

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