Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Rising From The Ashes of Loss, My Voyage Through Grief: excerpt # 15


...Louise is kicked out of her private room...I have to sleep in the patient's lounge...
A funny moment to break the tension...

...So here I went, holding sheets and pillow, en route to my improvised bedroom.  Mumbling all the way my dissatisfaction, I set the sheets up on the cot assigned to me, closed the door, put out the lights and proceeded to lie on my bed of fortune.  Try to imagine this ridiculous scene: I'm a 5 feet 11 inches tall adult and the cot was one of those folding beds that must have been made to accommodate a small child.  It was a joke.  When I sat my butt in the middle of the mattress and stretched, my feet hung out of the end of the contraption and my head stuck out in empty space like a scary puppet.  The only way I could fit in was in some kind of fetal position or on my back, legs bent upwards at the knees.  Any position I tried to contort myself into was unbearable and the night was going to be long, very long.  Little did I know also that this little inconvenience was nothing compare to the heart-stopping shock that was about to scare the crap out of me.

It was about 3 a.m. and after tossing and turning like a wiggling warm, I finally fell asleep and slipped into a light dreamy state.  My reverie was short-lived though as I was slowly awakened by a soft shuffling sound and became progressively aware of a presence near me.  Still in a sleepy haze, I hesitantly turned around to investigate the disturbance.  I just could not believe what my inquisitive eyes were seeing.  With mounting trepidation, as my vision was slowly adapting to the darkness of the room, I was beginning to see the outline of a misty shadow taking shape.  My skin was crawling as if an army of ants was invading my whole body and my pounding heart was menacing to burst through my chest as the ghostly image was becoming more and more defined.  Barely able to contain myself and in a panic, I clumsily tried to throw my sorry ass out of that stupid bed, but my rickety legs, numbed from being contorted all that time, could not hold me and, like a sack of sand, I collapsed to the floor ready to scream like a scared puppy.  Terrorized, I could not keep myself from staring at the invader, when all of sudden the mysterious enigma was solved:  it was Louise, who with head and shoulders covered by a white sheet to keep warm, was sitting in a chair quietly observing me sleeping...


Dr. Pierre Milot, Ph.D., Ph.D. (tc)
Therapeutic Counsellor - Author
Online - Phone - One-on-one consultations
Info or free evaluation: 613.703.9237

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