The hospital staff were lined up from my door to the entrance of the elevators on the fifth floor. I couldn’t believe the turn out. My departure was an event. I held my breathe as I entered the elevator. I started to feel pressure in my chest. The anticipation of the night air was overwhelming. I’d spent a lifetime in confinement.
I was afraid to breathe, for fear the air would cut my lungs. My throat was still recovering from the tubes removed from my throat. My nose had large scabs its nostrils that hurt to the touch. My lips were dry, and my mouth begged for ice.
This was the beginning of my life. I was so unsure of my existence. Afraid of my abilities to act and feel as an adult, added further insecurities to my reconnecting with my daughter. Now walking on her own, and mumbling her first words. I was famous to those in the medical field. I was nobody to the real world. Reality quickly sunk in. There set the pace for my earning my keep, and taking my place on earth. I was alone and very afraid.