Paralyzed
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Dedicated to my Father, who was totally paralyzed
for 7 years before he died.
I awake in the early morning darkness
frozen, motionless, immobilized,
my eyes straining to see into the black void
looking for any sign of my keepers,
listening for any kind of movement
Phantom-like images dart around me slowly,
multiple images spring from every direction
My heart racing, breathing rapid and shallow,
figments of fear and my imagination
running amok in the dark
My eyes focus on tiny lights incessantly blinking
reassuring my heart as the phantoms vanish
My ears register the intermittent beeps
and steady, determined droning of
contraptions that populate my space
their sole purpose to prevent the outcome I crave
My nose catches whiffs of iodoform odor
penetrating, pungent, overwhelming
A cruel replacement for what once was
a weekly parade of fragrant flowers
that excited what few senses remain
The brightly colored blossoms,
the sweet, fragrant smells
the delightful sizes and shapes
But the beautiful flowers have withered,
as concern for my plight has waned
I watch as the sun, determined, dynamic,
deliberately dilutes the darkness,
revealing the amazing birth of a new day
Is that delightful birdsong I hear?
The beeping and droning are maddening,
but there's birdsong outside my window
I can’t wait until the moment arrives!
As if on cue my keeper appears
busily going about her assigned tasks.
My eyes following her every move
“And how are you doing today?” she asks,
staring at me as if I could answer.
But I lie frozen, motionless, immobilized,
as my mind replays its silent reply:
"My existence is a never-ending cycle of
Penetrating ... pungent ... whiffs
Beep ... blink ...drone ... beep
Blink ... drone ... beep ... blink
Drone ... beep ... blink ... drone
Penetrating ... pungent ... whiffs
Dawn ... daylight ... twilight ... night
Daylight ... twilight ... night ... dawn
Twilight ... night ... dawn ... daylight
Night ... dawn ... daylight ... twilight
Penetrating ... pungent ... whiffs
Each boring minute an hour
Each hateful hour a day
Each wretched day a year
Each torturous year a lifetime
Ad nauseum ... ad infinitum ... ad mortem?"
Offering no response to my unspoken thoughts
My keeper dutifully takes my vital signs—
temperature, pulse, respiration, blood pressure—
records the results, then walks to the window.
My favorite time of day has arrived!
“Let's open the window to freshen up your room”
As the window opens my spirit soars,
and my ears capture the lovely birdsong,
as well as other living sounds,
along with a veritable potpourri of smells
I can only imagine what is happening outside,
and I do imagine it as best I can
I close my eyes and try to make out each note,
visualizing the source of each incredible sound,
be it bird, animal, human, or otherwise,
what they are, what they look like,
what they’re doing, what they’re thinking,
the beeping and droning finally drowned out!
With every breath, I savor each smell.
With my eyes still closed, as I visualize
what’s happening in my mind’s eye,
a wonderful peace envelops me, comforts me.
But, alas, this day will be crueler than most
Another, newer keeper enters my room
“Oh, she’s fallen asleep” he whispers
He closes the window, pulls down the shades,
then quietly leaves, softly shutting the door.
I SCREAM A LONG, LOUD, PRIMAL SCREAM!
... in my mind,
as I lie frozen, motionless, immobilized—
Paralyzed
Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
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