CODE: A Hidden Language

Migraines & Ringing Noises

As pleasant as it was to be submerged under dreams, it was refreshing to be awake. Having been asleep as long as I had, my limbs weren’t use to movement since I hadn’t used them in a while. I was a bit numb and sore, like the feeling you get when your foot falls asleep but with my whole body. I wanted to move, to get up and move about lest my body forget how to move forever, but my body was still racked with pain. The damage from the accident made breathing painful let alone getting up and moving around. I had to resign to further lying down in a hospital bed, anxiously awaiting my fate. 

However, not long after I had woken up, about half an hour or so, I was faced with a ringing sensation in my ears. It started off barely noticeable, a slight hum deep within the recesses of my mind but the more time passed, the louder it got until itt was consistent but dull, high pitched note, continually ringing. As it escalated in volume, I clenched my eyes shut, trying to focus on the sound so as to find its source and be rid of it. But the more I tried to pinpoint it, the more I focused on it, the less I heard it with my ears and the more internal the sound seemed I shook my head, hoping the ringing was temporary but the movement seemed to rack my brain against my skull. The shaking was a catalyst, bringing the onset of the worst migraine of my life. The ringing continued to escalate, only worsened by the incessant pounding of the migraine. I clutched my head protectively, pain surging through me by the movement but I didn’t care. The ringing kept increasing, shouting at me as if it was a scream meant to shatter my mind. I dared to open my eyes, to try to search for a solution, only to be attacked by the glare of the lights in the hospital room. The room was dead silent, the only noticeable sounds coming from the madness of my mind and threatening to drive me insane. I lost consciousness once again.

After spending weeks under the comfort of a coma, it seemed only natural that I continue my stay at the hospital in the same state. Almost every conscious second I had, I was faced with an unrelenting migraine and a deafening ring that, together, berated and struck at my sanity until I lost consciousness once again. I spent the remainder of the week slipping in and out of consciousness, worshipping the seconds when I heard silence and abhorring the overwhelming minutes I heard otherwise. Despite moments of reprieve, the ringing and migraine never left me for long that week. To keep sane, I attempted to spend the majority of my stay comatose, quickly attempting to sleep every time I awoke—though it didn’t matter since they always drove me to lose consciousness anyway. It occurred to me to ask for help but, in all honesty, I was frightened by the idea. Hospital stays weren’t free and I knew that there was going to be a hefty bill for me to pay by the time I was healed and, not only did I not have anyway to pay for it, I couldn’t exactly tell them who I was. I thought about it, I did. I wondered what would happen if I opened my mouth to tell them that I had barely any idea of who I really was, of where I was even from. Would they have been able to find out for me? Did I really want to know?

By the end of the first week, the migraines had dulled and the ringing became a constant hum that only served to irritate me. Within a few short days after, they had come to a halt completely and, though I hesitate to admit it, I was at a bit of loss of what to do without them. Still hesitant, I allowed myself to become hopeful, especially when I had overheard a doctor say that I had healed at a frightening rate and that I was almost ready to be released. Unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed to remain hopeful for very long. Released from the torture of the ringing and migraine, I wasn’t expecting what would come next. Before long I was seeing things, unable to distinguish between reality and my hallucinations. Though it lasted only for two days, I couldn’t read a single letter or word around me during that time. It was as if I was seeing or reading another language, one that I wasn’t sure even existed, let alone understood. There was something else though, moments where I would see flashes of something, something that resembled peculiar letters and shapes that I didn’t recognize. I wasn’t sure if I should have been scared or frightened but I found myself growing more and more anxious, curious as to where my sanity was taking me—or if it had already abandoned me.