I'm trembling in the car outside of the ER.
___I think I'm dying
___or maybe I'm losing control of my mind
___or perhaps it's a heart attack
_______cause I'm sort of at the age - I think.
I stare at the light, pale, circular pill in my shaking palm.
___All I need to do is swallow it...
___but my mouth is dry
___and my throat is tight
_______What if this doesn't work?
The bottled water that usually lives in my purse shakes in my other hand.
___There isn't much water left
___I close my eyes and swallow
___I look at the time: 1:17 am
______Hopefully, it works. I hope it works.
I listen to my breathing. Loud and wavering like crashing waves in a storm. I feel everything, and it's all bad.
___I look at the ER doors
___imagine rushing through them
___"There's something wrong," I'd say, weak words coming out in stutters.
______"What's exactly wrong?" The nurse would ask.
________"I-I don't know. Something's just wrong."
__________She remembers my name and tells me to sign papers.
____________Heart monitor. Blood pressure check. EKG. God. I don't have money for another CAT scan.
I feel it now - I think.
___A rational thought slithers through like oil between cracked earth.
___My eyes pause for a few seconds more between it's swallows of the whole world.
___The sounds of waves crashing slow and weaken, and I let myself, for a moment, feel the water creeping over the sand.
______I'm beginning to melt like one does once you lie down in a quiet room after a long, long day of too many words, too many feelings, and quite too many things.
It's a smooth transition, like a blanket warmed by a new body.
___The trembling is being caressed by light hands.
___The racing heart is listening to soft whispers.
___The broken mind is kissed sweetly.
_______I even yawn at one point.
I start the car.
___And tell myself to remember to put another water bottle in my purse.