The stranger in a white lab coat from earlier comes back to check on me from time to time.
Checking to see if my body is still functioning.
Checking to see if my heart is still beating.
Checking to see if my lungs are still breathing.
I've wanted to ask him desperately how I ended up immobile in what I can only assume is a hospital room, but being I couldn't even open my mouth, let alone create a vibration from my own vocal cords, I couldn't ask him all the questions dangling over the tip of my tongue and he didn't offer any explanation or sympathy, only a distant look of disgust lingering beneath a blank stare.
And I kept wondering
and
wondering
and
wondering what the codes heck did I do to deserve this kind of treatment.
And the guy from earlier, speaking in hush whispers with the doctor, never came back. And I can't help, but continue to wonder because that's all I can do with this endless amount of time sitting on the palm of my hand. I wonder who he is. I wonder about his life. I wonder if he was here for me and if he was? Who is he to me? Is he a relative or a close friend or a possible bystander who witness me get sick or injured or whatever the heck happened to me?
Or was he just here for the doctor? Is there truly nobody out there for me that cares and loves for me? Is there no one that feels the slightest bit of pain with the knowledge of me being confined here by my own body? Is there no one...is there...why doesn't anybody care? Why is this doctor acting so inhuman towards me?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why can't I just curl up into a ball and cry?