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Patient 32
By O’Leary, Thomas J
Waking up from a lack of dreams
The third eye sleeps
The first two see.
Walls of white with bedding the same.
Rusted cot,
A rusted frame.
Legs pour over
Feet touch the ground.
Cold concrete
Greets without a sound.
Standing up he feels the rush
Of blood, of thoughts
From dust to dust.
He can not remember why he’s here.
He begins to summarize all that’s near
Ten foot wide
Ten foot long
Contains a bed
Contains a bulb, humming bleakly
Song of death?
It wont be long fore
Its final breath.
A single door
Without a latch.
First one in
Is the last one left.
No toilet, no sink, not even a pillow
No air duct, no breeze, not even a window.
He takes three steps and he approaches the door
Timidly.
Suddenly
He thinks he’s done this before.
Gazing and lost
His mind struggles to find
The memory, the thought, the ability to
Rewind.
His hands reach out
Exploring at first
Finding nothing of note
He notes with a curse.
‘What the hell is happening?’
the tranquility is gone
panic joins in
‘this is totally wrong’.
His hands start pounding
His voice gaining steam
‘LET ME OUT OF HERE!’
his fists beget to a scream.
Over and over
Pound and pound.
Under and under
Round and round.
Finally, his fists
Drop back to his sides
Tears of frustration
An occasion to cry.
He slumps back on his cot
Springs squeal in delight.
His hands pass through his hair
‘I’m losing my mind’.
Nothing happens at first, minutes drip by
Hours perhaps, its hard to tell time.
Suddenly without thinking he goes to the door
But instead of just banging he begins to tap out a score.
A melody really
And something quite silly
An old cartoon
From when William was just Billy
He and his brother
Back when they would sit down and laugh
Their parents joining in
Just to see their kids have
Such an innocent moment
An innocent time
Before all the madness
And before all the lies
And before life’s ambitions led you down so very deep
That you forgot what it felt to ever feel
Weak.
The tapping ends.
The memory dies.
The door opens up
To no one’s surprise.
He steps quite calmly
Expects nothing at all
He is not disappointed
As he steps in the hall.
More bulbs of the same kin
Every five or so feet,
The same paint job and the same concrete.
One glance to the left and one glance to the right.
A mirror image.
They’re exactly alike.
What to do now
He stops and he thinks.
Days go by.
The third eye blinks.
‘Rock, paper, scissors’,
that’s how it was always determined
so he used both hands
that were already aware of their purpose.
His left hand curls a fist
his right just lay flat
Paper beats rock
His feet begin to un-plant.
The first step feels right, the second feels better
He knew the direction why did he feel so off kilter?
What seemed like miles
And definitely was
Gave no change in scenery
Just the whiteness of all.
Finally, without warning the hall ends with a
Door.
This time with a handle, he approaches the
Shore.
He opens it slowly
not because he’s surprised
He opens it slowly
Because he knows what’s inside.
‘HI JOHN!!!’, they scream
every voice in tandem,
his mother his father his brothers
his wife his grandsons,
his daughters his uncles his aunts his friends
the kids that grew up,
those in his platoon that were dead.
His classmates his employees every animal he once owned
Every childhood chum, every colleague whose grown.
Thousands upon thousands
Of people he knew from the past
The ones that were blips
And the ones that would last.
Their faces delighted
His face was the same
The wave went crashing
And out poured all their names
Alyssa and Michael, William and Sam
Adi and Bradley, Terri and Ted
Drowning in thought
Submerged in the past
He swims through the crowd
Bobbing smiles and laughs.
High fives and hand shakes
Kisses and hugs
He feels so alive
He greets every one.
His feet continue moving as if propelled on their
Own.
He knows he can’t stay here he has to get
Home.
With a final good-bye
He breaks through to the end
Their stands the last door
Painted the deepest of reds.
With a glance to the rear
As if gathering strength
He pulls in a breath
Looks forward
Opens the door
And finally
Finally
he takes
.
.
.
control
From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU
Dated August 3rd, 1993
Patient 32 exhibited a brief moment of what I would call ‘clarity’ after 472 days of near total atrophy in both the mind and body. Occasionally nurses would report the patient mumbling incoherently at times but almost immediately returning to a complete state of vegetation. Yet today, something very odd occurred.
As I was checking the patient’s vitals (well, checking to make sure the staff was checking the patient’s vitals) the patient suddenly drew in a very audible breath, opened both eyes, stared directly into my own and said quite clearly and with no hesitation
‘I know what’s going on. I know what’s happening to me. I’m trying my best. Tell everyone that I love them’.
Upon saying these words, the patient went directly back into his near complete state of unresponsiveness. I’m not sure what to exactly make of this. I have instructed the staff to make more periodic rounds into the patient’s quarters to see if anything progresses.
This is mere speculation and words in which I wouldn’t use around my fellow colleagues but the way he stared into my eyes and the way he spoke led me to believe that he was indeed in full control of all his faculties at their very moment, almost as if he was trapped for the last 400 or so days and finally found a way out, albeit brief. Too brief.
From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU
Dated August 4th, 1993
No change in Patient 32
From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU
Dated August 5th, 1993
No change in Patient 32
From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU
Dated August 15th, 1993
No change in Patient 32.
From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU
Dated September 2nd, 1993
No change in Patient 32.
From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU
Dated November 22nd, 1993
No change in Patient 32.
From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU
Dated January 5th, 1994
No change in Patient 32.
From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU
Dated July 27th, 1994
No change in Patient 32.
From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU
Dated February 14th, 1995
No change in Patient 32.
Waking up from a lack of dreams
The third eye sleeps
The first two see.
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