Coma

There's a time and a place for everything. There's a time to smile and a time to hesitate. There's a time to question and consider your options.

"She would have wanted to go like this." Dad took mom's hand in his and comforted her as she wept.

No I wouldn't! If only there was a way to get them to hear me. I was in a nightmare and I couldn't wake up. I was screaming and screaming, but nobody could hear me. I screamed at my parents for being so selfish. Just give me a few more days and I'll figure out how to get out of this prison of a mind. But no, they couldn't bare to see me like this, so fragile and unresponsive.

Fuck! Mom, look at me! If I could express emotion, surely they'd see me crying. Why can't I cry, though?

"Are you ready?" The nurse asked my parents. My mother shook her head, and my dad requested a few more minutes.

Now's my chance.

Mom, Dad! I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for never being the daughter you wanted. I'm sorry for stealing that money from your purse when I was thirteen. I'm sorry I brought boys home to spite you. I'm sorry I didn't get to graduate college. I'm so sorry! But please don't give up on me now! Nothing I said was heard. I was talking to an empty room that my parents occupied.

I wanted to touch their faces and feel their gentle hands again, but both of my parents were too afraid of the supposedly empty body in front of them. But I'm not empty. I'm still here.

My dad got up from his chair and called for the nurse. She paged the doctor, and I knew I only had a matter of minutes.

I tried to lift my finger, but it was like the weight of the world was sitting on my hand. I tried to scream, but it was like someone had stuffed a sock in my mouth. I tried to cry, but it was like I had just been sucked dry of all liquids. Everything seemed impossible.

I could hear the footsteps in the hallway, each one getting louder and louder. An old man in a white coat entered, and shook hands with my parents. He walked them through the procedure, continually asking them if this was what they wanted. Each time I'd try and say, "No," it got translated as, "Yes."

The doctor reached for the machine and flipped a few switches, one cutting off my oxygen and one stopping the medications. I fought hard to breathe, but each inhale became more exhausting than the last.

Please! Please! There had to be some way for me to communicate that I was still here. I wish there had been some supernatural telephone that I could have called from. Maybe my phone could have died with me in the crash.

I'm still here, please! My mom shook her head and stepped out of the room. My dad stayed behind and sat at my bedside, where he remained for the next three and a half hours. He didn't even look at me, that hurt like hell. Mom would occasionally come and go, getting more hysterical with each glance at me. She must have known she was killing her baby, and that this was wrong.

I give up! I was done fighting my inevitable death. My parents, the two people in the world that were suppose to believe in me no matter the circumstances, had even given up on me. They knew what I was capable of, and fighting to live was not something I could do. Were they doing me a favor?

"You can go now, sweet heart." My dad brushed my cheek with his hand. Finally, I thought. Finally he had touched me and showed me that his humanity was still there. I didn't think I'd need his permission before, but I felt much more comfortable now for some reason.

So I gave up. No- I gave in. And each breathe became shorter, and the time between heart beats became longer. The sounds in the room got quieter and quieter, and eventually, my thoughts went mute as well.