I Want to Live

There was no pain—not at first.

I remember the piercing white light and then the deafening sounds of metal and glass disintegrating. I felt the noise until a scream shattered my eardrums—my scream.

Voices, then shards of light broke the darkness.

The pain. It permeated every cell of my body.

*****

That was then. Now nothing's the same. Life is different—flat—without depth. That's what the world looks like through only one eye.

The pain is still there, but, thank God, not like before. Push a button, seconds later, wonderful bliss. But it doesn't last long. Not nearly long enough.

They only allow me one push an hour. So I wait, watching the numbers on the bedside clock. I count down the minutes, then seconds, praying not to feel. The number changes, I push the button, bliss returns. I close my eyes.

Why won't people leave me alone? If I could, I'd punch out my cheery nurse. Her sweet, high-pitched voice, cuts through me like a knife. I wish she'd shut up, do what she has to do, and leave. But she doesn't.

"How is my favorite patient today?" she says, in her singsong voice.

Oh, great, she's back. She can't be that stupid. How do you think I am? I'd love to say, but I can't. Wires are holding my jaw together. Unable to answer, I give her the evil eye. That's all I can do.

She changes this, adjusts that, and finally takes away my body waste. "If you need anything, just buzz me," she sings. With a final smile, she's gone. Her visit has distracted me. I've lost count. Frantically, I push the button—nothing. Agitated, I look at the clock and start the countdown all over again.

The constant noise of the machines in my room is driving me mad. Without my bliss, I feel the tubes in every orifice of my body, giving or taking away. I want to scream STOP! ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! And rip them out. But I can't. My arms are broken and useless.

I think about my wife's little red Miata—her baby. She didn't like sharing it with me. It's gone now—totaled. I hope she's not too mad. It wasn't my fault.

Finally, it's time. I push the button and bliss returns.

I'm in a world of my own, but hear "Miss Happy Nurse" humming as she connects my breakfast of bacon and eggs—not! Unfortunately for me, she's on my right side. Among other things, I can't seem to hear out of my left ear. I found that out when Sue first visited. I saw the tears, watched her lips move, but heard nothing.

I want to die.

I may be drugged and blissfully floating, but I hear them talk about my prognosis. The doctor says I'm lucky. What? Is he nuts? There isn't a spot on my body that wasn't disfigured by the accident.

"We almost lost him a couple of times, but he's a fighter."

Bullshit! Fighting? I didn't have a clue what was happening to me. If I had, and knew what I know now, I would have said, "Let the poor son-of-a-bitch die with at least a shred of dignity. Death would be far better than the life he has to look forward to."

My face is totally messed up. My right arm, even after it heals will be next to useless. My left foot had to be amputated. The list goes on and on. He tells my wife there was some brain swelling. They'll know more in a week or two.

Great. Brain damage. What's next? Kidney failure?

The only thing they know for sure is that I'm going to need additional surgeries to repair what's left of me.

I'm angry all the time. I hope the person in that white SUV died a horrible death. They probably walked away without a scratch. I wasn't even the first car in the intersection. I saw the SUV coming. I had nowhere to go. Red means stop for Crissakes! Was probably texting on his stupid phone.

I look at the clock. Two minutes until bliss.

We're not rich, just barely making it. Now I regret downgrading my medical insurance. I was trying to save a few bucks. Besides, I was in perfect health. The two-thousand-dollar major medical deductible never entered my mind. Thinking back, it should have.

Between savings and checking, we had maybe six thousand dollars. That's undoubtedly gone by now. I have way too much time to think, but what else is there for me to do?

The rider on our mortgage policy says in the event of my death, it's paid in full. My two-hundred-thousand-dollar term life policy would pay off everything else. It would take the pressure off Sue for a while.

My family's future wellbeing it's all I think about now.

The pulsating whoosh of the respirator does nothing but increase my determination. The tube is taped to my mouth, and with my good eye, I can see where the other end is connected to the machine. I have two useless arms but a good right leg and foot.

Now instead of counting down the seconds until bliss, I try to hook the breathing tube with my foot and pull it out of the machine.

With a single, morbid purpose in mind, I spend hours attempting to end my life. I figure, as bad a shape as I'm in, I'll last no more than a couple of minutes without oxygen.

Sue will be sad, but after I'm in the ground, she'll eventually move on and find someone else. She's so beautiful it won't take her long. They'll probably be lining up at her door before I'm even cold. She deserves better than to be saddled with a cripple.

On my next attempt, I manage to pull the tube out.

It'll all be over soon.

I hear voices in the hallway, then the high pitch laughter of children. Sue and the girls are here? Now? Sue walks in, smiles, and my two little ones run to my bedside.

"Daddy, Daddy, we miss you. When are you coming home?"

I can't respond. I just look at my two angels. A tear drips down my cheek. God, I love them so much. I look at the unattached tube. What have I done? I don't want to die. I want to live. Through wide, frantic eyes, I look at Sue. My brain screams, Help me!

That's when everything gets loud. Whistles. Alarms. People rush into my room. My cheery nurse gives me an ugly look as she reconnects and tapes my breathing tube to the machine. She leans in close and whispers in my ear. "Don't you EVER try that again on my watch."

Hesitantly, Sue comes forward and puts both girls on the bed next to me. She kisses my cheek as the girls cuddle with me. "Honey, they need you, and I need you."

I look at my family through blurry eyes. I can do this. Somehow, I'll find a way to make it all work.