Descriptive Essay

~From out of Nowhere~

Written by: B Quimby 16 August 2006

I am not sure what happened, I mean one day I have so much energy I think that I am about to jump out of my own flesh and the next I feel as though I am stuck in quick sand. I cannot move. I listen carefully to the sounds around me and try to decipher as to my hereabouts. Unable to fully determine this, I open my eyes. They are sluggish and rebel against my insistence that they cooperate. At last I have them open and the sights are as confusing as the sounds were. I am still unable to comprehend what is taking place around me. There is no one within view, but I can hear the busy hustle and bustle close by.

After a few moments I realize that I am lying in bed and as soon as that comes to me I am feeling guilty. Surely, I must have overslept and we must have company! My mind tells me to get up – NOW! I go to leap out of bed as I have a million times and….nothing. I am cemented to the bed! I cannot move! What is wrong with me?! This is ridiculous! When have I NEVER been able to get out of bed? All of this seems to be so overwhelming…I am exhausted! I will just lie here a bit longer while I try to determine what the hell is going on. Surely someone has played a joke on me. My eyes close….they close much easier than they opened. As I lie here with my eyes happily closed I notice the room that was spinning moments before is slowing down to a stop as a merry-go-round. All I know is I wanted to get off this ride! I feel a wave of pure and utter fatigue wash over me. The next thing that I know is I feel people around me. Again, I have to command my eyes to open…damn! It was NEVER this hard to open them before?!

What I see when they obey me is disturbing. I am comforted in the midst of chaos however, I see my mom and dad and brother and sister. They are all looking at me; but the expressions on their faces – did I do something wrong? I go to reach out to my mom….nothing. My arms refuse to cooperate! Now I am scared! This is when I notice that there are women in white uniforms around me poking at this and prodding at that. The alarms and bells go off in my brain! Something is not right; in fact something is very VERY wrong! “MOM!” I yell, but the sound of it is distorted. I look to her; she is keenly watching the doctor, who seems to be telling them something. I know that it is about me and I want to know. What the hell is going on with me, why can’t I move, or talk right? Mom sees that I am begging for her with my eyes, she comes close to me. She hugs and kisses me and says that it will be alright. I know that she is trying to convince herself more than me. I go to put a hand around her as she hugs me, my hands don’t comply with my desire and kind of flail hitting her.

Later, as I am alone once again, I look at my hands. There has to be a reason I can’t

even hug my own mother and father! When I see my hands, I scream and jump back from them! Nothing comes out of my mouth which gives me the feeling that I am choking on my own vomit. My body that I thought had jumped back and recoiled was in the same position; it never moved. The ghastly sight was my hands. They are all gnarled up; they look like the distorted knots on an old tree, only the sight is more gruesome. I try to straighten them to no avail. I try to lift my arm and only succeed in having it flop off the bedside.

Days blur into weeks, months, and years pass. I find that I look forward to when mom and dad visit. Sometimes there seems to be long stretches in between those times and I can hear them arguing in the hall with other people. I know it’s about me but I don’t know why. When I can talk again, I will ask mom about it. I have been moved around and the doctors have tried various things to take care of me. A few times they had a cylinder looking thing….I am not sure what it is for but they put it in and take it out. I don’t really like that as it makes me not feel well when they do that. Today I notice that the faces of those around me seem pretty grim. There is not much talking and mom and dad have been crying. The doctor is poking and prodding me again. The next thing that I see is he has that hose thing again. He caries it out of the room and my mom flings after him sobbing as my dad catches her and holds on to her as if he would never let her go. The love that they have for each other is something that I always hoped to have. Guess it wasn’t in the cards for me. Mom’s sobs begin to slow as I watch my dad; brother and sister coax her into relaxation. She comes by me. She tells me she loves me and that she will make everything ok. I look at her and will my mouth to let her know that I am fine and not to worry about me. Of course the words just as stubborn as always, don’t deliver. I am tired again now, I close my eyes.

I awaken with a feeling that is making my head seem as though it will explode at any moment. It has been 12 days since the doctor took the hose and left the room. I want to ask for help, the room is spinning. I try to open my mouth but it is impossible. My tongue is peeling; the bleeding stopped a few days back. The delirium that I am subject to provides no answers to what is happening to me. In a far away distance I can hear arguing, crying and sobbing mostly my mom. Back to the room spinning, my body hurts to the point that I think I may die. I am not sure what I need but I cannot hold on to this much longer. I can no longer feel skin on my body though I am sure it is there. Mom and dad, my brother and sister come in by me. The visit is short; too short. We all know this is the last time. I cannot hold on anymore. They are ushered out of my room, Mom clinging to my hand. “Let go mom”, my mind tells her. I can’t stay. I have to go. I close my eyes one more time. This time it is harder to close them than to ever before. It feels as if the lids were sandpaper, rubbing their friction on each other. I take one final albeit painful breath and exhale. It is March 31^st, 2005 and my name was Teresa Marie Schindler-Schiavo.