I do not know where I am...I am afraid to open my eyes. All I hear is loud noises and people screaming.
"Fight!"
"Wake up!"
"No, you are not dying on me today!"
I am scared. I do not know what is going on. I am paralyzed—I cannot move. I say to myself nervously, "Why do I have to fight? I am awake." I am standing near a nurse who has dark red freckles on her face and long blonde hair. Her scrubs are solid pink. In her hand are a black pen and a red folder with a white piece of paper on top.
I look at her and wave my hand in her face, "Hello. I am awake." I keep waving my hand in her face, "Hello. Hello. I am right here." ...but she doesn't see me. I say to myself in a panic, "Oh no, this can't be. No, no, no, no, no...am I dead?"
I look and walk slowly around the small room. There are bright lights everywhere. There are about thirteen people or so in different colored scrubs (blue, white, dark blue, or pink) fighting and working hard, trying to keep someone alive.
I am trying to work my way through the thick crowd, but I notice I am walking through people! "Excuse me...excuse me." But again, nobody can hear me. I look down at the table, and the person they are trying to save is...me.
I am startled and quickly jump back as I start to breathe hard, and I ask myself, "How did I get here? Wait, this can't be." I hold my hands up to my face, and I look at them; they are fine. I turn to my left and walk over to the mirror that is on a wall near the sink. My face looks perfectly fine. My hair is a mess. Some of it is hanging down in the back and on the side. It sits on top of my head in a wild bun.
I don't know what is going on. How can I see other people and they don't even notice me? I walk over to take a closer look to make sure it's me. I assure myself it can't be because I'm right here. All I can hear is people yelling, screaming, calling all kinds of codes, numbers, and names. People are running in and out of the room. They are trying to be careful not to bump into each other as they bring medical equipment in and out. I slowly walk up to get a better glance to make sure it is me. It is me, lying there with tubes in my mouth and nose. There are a lot of leads on my chest and head.
The left side of my face is crushed. My eyes are swollen shut, my mouth looks like a huge hot air balloon, my arms are badly bruised, they look broken, but I am not sure. I look at my legs, but they are covered up. I have on one purple slipper; who knows where the other maybe? I see a little bit of my Snoopy pajama pants, and I am wearing the red t-shirt I had on earlier today. I am thinking to myself, "I cannot believe my eyes, these are the same clothes I had on this morning." I blink to make sure it's real—it's real, and they are fighting to save my life.
Everyone is yelling left and right, here and there.
"Come on!"
"You do not get to die! Come on!"
I ball my fist, scream back, and say, "Do you see me? I am right here! I am alive!"
I begin to float off the ground. I'm yelling, "No! Wait! Wait!" I look around and notice that gravity isn't holding me down. I look down at myself, and I scream, "Oh my gosh, no!" I am reaching out as I try to find my way back into my body. I am unable to as I begin to float higher and higher.
There is a dark-skinned doctor with a blue medical cap on his head and a white mask on his face yelling, "Shock!"
The nurse with dark red freckles on her face shocks my heart with the defibrillator. My chest rises as if the defibrillator is a magnet that is attached to my heart. The doctor yells again, "Shock!" He is sweating so much that his mask comes off his face.
There is a nurse wearing a dark blue uniform. She is beautiful, she has black moles on her cheeks, light brown skin, and has a cute short hairstyle. She sits over me on the bed, performing compressions, and starting CPR. She is screaming, "Come on, Ryder, you are too young to die! Come on!" As the compressions become deeper and deeper, she starts to yell as loud as she can, "Got-damn it, Ryder, come back to us!
As I am slipping into the deep end, it's quiet. I feel the pressure as if a vacuum cleaner is trying to suck me in. I close my eyes, and I float lifelessly in the air. I don't want to see myself suffer anymore. I say to myself, "This is it. I am dead." I hear a firm voice that sounds like mine saying, "It is okay, let go...let go of the pain. Let go of the suffering. Let go and come with me."
I hear another voice that sounds like mine—this time, it is more welcoming and sweeter, saying, "So you want to let go and give up on life. Sure, you are always welcome to come with us, just know that you are taking the easy way out. Why not go back and change your life for the better? You haven't even given yourself a fair chance to see what life has to offer you. You are the one who has made bad decisions, knowing the decisions you've made aren't in your best interests. It is you who ignored all the signs. Taking the easy way out isn't going to make life any better. It is not only about you. What about your family? They are going to be hurt. You are going to regret that you didn't give yourself a chance of what life could have been."
I open my eyes as I look over at the welcoming voice. However, I don't see anyone. The welcoming voice says, "You are not allowed to see us. If you cross over or if we are given permission to reveal ourselves, you will be able to see us clearly, but until then, you have a choice to make."
I look over to see if I can see the person with the firm voice. She is impatient as she says, "See, you do not listen. She just told you, you cannot see us. Not only do you not listen, but most definitely, you do not pay attention to the signs. We are here to protect you, but you choose not to take note of the signs. Make up your mind—are you coming with us or staying down there? Time is ticking, and it is not waiting for you."
I don't know where to look. I say out loud as I am still floating, "I am choosing death."
I ask myself, "Will it be easier to choose death? Honestly, I didn't cheat death, because I let someone put me here."
The welcoming voice says, "Whether you talk to yourself silently or out loud, either way, we can hear you." She continues, "By the way, if you want someone to be honest with you," she clears her voice and continues, "You put yourself here because you were the one who kept going back. You were the one who didn't love yourself enough to know when enough was enough. You lost control and let an abusive relationship determine your fate. You gave that person power over you, and that person's hands are about to be the death of you."
The firm voice sounds impatient and angrily says, "Be honest for once, own up to what you did and didn't do. It's not always easy to walk away, but there are steps you could have taken. You could have asked for help. Your family is tired of helping you, but you keep going back over and over again. Look! Look down! Look down at yourself! Look!"
I yell. I am tired of the firm voice interrogating me. "I am looking at myself! I know it is my fault. What do you want me to do? Huh? What do you want from me!"
The firm voice asks, "What do you see?" She is silent, then says, "What's the use...you are wasting our time. You are going to put your- self in this situation again. How many times have you been here?" She doesn't give me time to answer. Instead, she answers the question for me, "Too many. Turn your back. Let go and come with me."
I look down at myself one last time, turn my back, and reach out my hand, "I am ready. I am ready to go."
The firm voice and the welcoming voices say, "Once you cross over, there's no turning back."
The welcoming voice says, "I've asked for permission, and it has been granted." She reveals herself. I take a deep breath — she is an image of me. She is my height, 5'6", hazel brown eyes, beautiful deep rich bronze skin, and wavy copper-colored hair. She is beautiful, surrounded by a lilac, barely pink light; she stands in the bright beam of light; as if it is her soul. She stands there, and as she smiles, the beam of light is surrounded by twinkling stars, but she doesn't reach out for me.
The firm voice steps forward. She is also an image of me, dressed in human clothing and a bright yellow-outlined pink knitted poncho. However, under the poncho is made of smooth motionless water, and the moon is over her head. I try to step back, but I forget that I am floating. She says in a calm voice, "I was also given permission to reveal myself. Don't worry, you haven't crossed over." As her voice changes, the moon disappears, and the water rages as she asks, "Why waste my time? I am tired of saving you, knowing that you know better. Why go back and submit yourself to the same abusive relationship again?"
I yell, "You didn't save me!"
Her voice frightens me, and the water is out of control, rising up to the point that I can't see how high it has risen. It looks like a tornado, it is swirling and spinning so fast. The more she talks, the higher and wider the water is spinning.
She is angry and filled with rage, "I did save you!"
The water falls down harder than a rainstorm. It drenches me from head to toe.
She floats towards me, "I saved you every single time. I was granted the power to bring you back to life every single time the hands of another human knocked you out. I smoothed your bruises! When you called, having had enough, I am the one who touched your family's heart after they said they were done a million times, to come and get you from wherever you were. After a couple of hours or a day, what did you do?"
I am angry. I ball my fist and yell, "I do not owe you anything! I didn't ask you to save me!"
She yells, "What did you do? Huh? ...you went right back to a heartless person every single time!" She moves a bit closer and says angrily, "I am the one who saves you every single time because I am your guardian angel. I am the one who follows you day in and out! I am tired of it! Yes, we, as angels, have our limits too."
She floats so close to me to the point I feel like I can't breathe. I can't believe my eyes; the water starts to rise again—the water changes color from clear blue to purple. "No, you do not owe me anything. I do not want anything from you." The water once again is out of control, "You are selfish." The water freezes when she says, "You are cold-hearted because you hurt people too." The water starts to drop little by little as she says, "You hurt your family...and what is so sad, you voluntarily hurt yourself." She stares at me, "Now, ask yourself, why would I want anything from you?"
My heart is racing as I prepare for the water to fall on me again.
She is so angry the frozen water looks like an ocean on top of her head. She continues, "You are so ungrateful. You are not thankful."
I know the water is going to fall on top of me again. This time I am prepared as I tighten my body and ball my fists. I hear bells ringing and birds tweeting. I hear a deep voice, but it is so humble, "Enough."
I turn around, but I don't see anyone.
The welcoming voice tells the firm voice, "Uh, oh. Enough is enough."
I look up and see the moon. The water is circling the moon as the firm voice controls her anger and says, "I apologize. However, many people who want to live are dying in this hospital—people who are yearning for your organs. Come with me, so you can give them your organs. You can give someone their life back who wants to live, since you do not value yours. Unlike you, they want to live life."
The water is raging again. I quickly snatch my hand back and say, "I thought you were on my side."
The firm voice replies, "I am. Why don't you let go and give your precious organs to a life who will appreciate it? At least they want to live—you, on the other hand, are wasting life."
As the pressure sucks me up, I look down at myself. Another doctor with a low hair cut runs into the room, wearing a baby blue uniform and a cap on his head that reads, "Smile, you are blessed." His brown skin has drops of sweat on it, as he quickly sticks a needle in my chest.
The heart monitor barely has waves. A nurse with red hair quickly looks at the monitor, "Ryder is trying to hold on, but she's drifting away."
The tube in my mouth is helping me breathe. As the doctor continues to perform compressions, the tube comes out. He yells and takes over the compressions as he presses on my chest. His white mask and his blue medical cap come off. "Good God, she's giving up! Her blood pressure has dropped."
My heart stops, and the waves on the heart monitor flatline.
Another nurse with dark golden hair, dressed in white scrubs, has yellow stethoscope tips in her ears. She has the bell and diaphragm in her hand; she panics as she breathes heavily, "Doctor, she's gone."
He stops the compressions for a second, checks the monitor, and looks at the nurse as he yells, "No! Not on my watch! We are not giving up! One more time! Shock!"
One shock...I look down at myself and say, "I want to live." The second shock....I yell and say, "Wait! I want to go back!" The medical team is tired. The doctor says, "Okay, one last time!" I am screaming, "No, wait! Do not give up on me. I want to live!
I want to live! I want to live! I will change! Please."
The doctor says again, "Shock!"
The vacuum lets me go, and I gently float back into my broken
and bruised body. The heart monitor starts to beep. The nurse with the beautiful black moles on her face says, "Oh my, this is a miracle.
She died and came back to life. This young lady must have unfinished business to attend to."
I hear the doctor say as he breathes heavily, "Welcome back to earth, Ryder."
"Thank you, sir, thank you for not giving up on me." I think I said it out loud, apparently, because everyone is talking loud and over me.
I try it again and say, "Hello, I am awake, thank you all so much!" Once again, everyone continues to talk over me. I panic and say to myself, "Oh no, I am dead! I wanted another chance to live my best life."
I hear the heart monitor beeping at a faster pace. The doctor's voice is loud, "What in the world? Her pressure is dropping." He yells, "Clear the way!"
I feel his presence. I know I'm not dead because I can hear every- one moving things around in a hurry. I say to myself, "I am not dead. I am alive. I must be sedated because they cannot hear me." I don't know what he is going to do, but as I realize I am alive, I don't panic. I calm my soul and relax my mind. I hear a nurse say as if she is shocked and out of breath, "Wait! Look!"
The doctor says, "Well, I'll be damned!"
I hear another voice, she sounds like she is older, she must also be a nurse. She says, as if she can't believe what she's seeing, "Her blood pressure is back to normal. I think we need to increase the dosage of pain killers because this young lady will feel the pain sooner than later when she awakes."
I realize that I am unconscious. They can't hear me because of a lack of responsiveness. I am aware of what is going on because I can hear everyone, but I can't move my body. Everything I said was only heard in my head. Well, at least I am alive. I will be my own company until the sedation wears off.
The doctor says, "I agree, let's increase the dosage. This poor girl was really beaten half to death. Goodness, you wouldn't even think another person would be capable of doing this. The sad thing is, whoever did this left this young lady for dead and didn't even look back."
I hear a lady say, "What happened to this young woman is so sad. She didn't deserve this. Nobody deserves this."
The doctor tells me, "Ms. Ryder, I hope you know that you are a fighter and you have a reason to live. I'm sure you know that because after all, you came back to life."
As if he could hear me, I say to myself, "Thanks sir, but I did this to myself. I wouldn't be in this condition if I valued my life." He continues giving out orders to the nurses, "She will be on a ventilator for now. I have to see what condition she will be in after she wakes up before I decide on the next step we should take. Ms. Ryder will be in the intensive care unit for a while. This young lady has a way to go." He adds, "Nurse Moore, if you don't mind, may you sit with her for a while? I want someone in here to monitor her around the clock."
Nurse Moore agrees and says, "You got it! Ryder and I are going to become close acquaintances with each other."
The doctor sounds like he's smiling as he replies, "That's why I asked you, Nurse Moore, you show motherly love to everyone I know."
I feel someone standing over me. It is the doctor. He says, "Have mercy on this young lady. I hope she comes out of this coma sooner than later. Whoever did this to her, I hope they get what's coming to them. What they did was senseless. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if someone did this to my daughter."
A light voice piggybacks off of the doctor's comment, "The officers said it was her girlfriend. They locked her up, but they said they cannot hold her until they gather proof. It is so sad when you know who did it, but justice cannot be served until you prove it." She continues, "Her girlfriend might get out, but I know they are going to collect evidence to put her behind bars for a long time. There is no way she will get away with this."
Another lady, with a slightly deeper voice, says, "I do not understand. What could someone possibly do to deserve such treatment? Goodness, if a person isn't happy, they should leave. There's no need to put hands on someone."
The lady with the light voice remarks, "I bet this has been going on for a while. This young lady, Ryder, has been in a domestic relationship for a long time. This time, it just so happened to get out of hand and took a turn for the worse."
The slightly deeper voice says, "We will help Ms. Ryder pull through. This young lady needs a lot of love and hugs."
The doctor says, "Hey, ladies, you know there is a huge possibility she can hear you all. Let's not talk about her business in front of her. We do not know what or how it could trigger something...and we do not want to find out. We finally got her settled, and we want to keep it that way as much as possible. Let's leave her business outside the room."
They both agree.
I hear someone walking towards me—it is the nurse; I feel a light pressure on my head. She must be rubbing my head. Her voice trembles, "This precious beautiful young lady didn't deserve this."
I know they can't hear me, so I say to myself, "Yes, I did. I deserve every scratch, bruise, and/or broken bone because I didn't leave. I let Tee beat me nearly to death. Yes. I deserve what I got, and now I am paying for it."
The doctor says, "Well, I am going to give her family an update. Only one person is allowed in the room at a time. Please stay in the room because we have to monitor her around the clock, as the first 24 hours are critical. He pauses, "She is not 100% in the clear."
The nurse tells him, "I have it all taken care of, Dr. Moore. Go ahead and update the family, eat something, and rest if you can. I will call you if something occurs."
I hear footsteps walking out of the room. I try moving my fingers and toes, but I'm not successful. I feel like I am trapped inside my body and can't get out.
I feel a light touch on my head again. I believe it is Nurse Moore. She tells me, in the sweetest voice I ever heard, "Sweet Ryder, I am Nurse Moore. You put us to work today! You seem like a sweet young lady. How did you get here, sweetie? I know you do not know me, but I know that you are loved and cared for. You are someone very special. You are beautiful inside and out. You are a miracle and truly blessed. Sweet Ryder, you have another chance at life. You are here for a reason. Life is giving you another chance to plant your seeds. Take care of them by watering them, nurturing them throughout all seasons, and watch your flowers bloom!"
Nurse Moore has a heavenly lilac scent. She smells as sweet as she sounds, and I feel emotional just listening to her. I am thinking I deserve what happened to me, but now I have another chance to live. I know it will be hard to plant my seeds, but I have a fresh start. I keep saying to myself, "Ryder, you have another chance at life, and it is up to me if I take care of my garden or let it wither away. Will I nurture my life or make a choice to get lost in the deep end and wither away?"
I feel a soft touch on my face. Nurse Moore says, "Ryder, honey, can you hear me?" I try making a sound or moving my fingers, but once again, no response. Nurse Moore's voice trembles again, "Ryder, you are not alone. I am here to catch your tears. Don't cry, honey, you are in good hands." I'm assuming tears are falling from my eyes. Inside I am an emotional wreck, but it feels good knowing I am not alone.