Entering the room, my eyes are welcomed
by a beam of light sent from the ceiling.
The team greets me politely,
wearing their tacky mint-green scrubs
that contradict the stark room.
It is spotless
yet has an overpowering aroma,
as if I’ve been dipped
into a sterile sea of
alcohol wipes.
The room reminds me of winter.
My bones start to shiver,
making the universal sign
for wanting to be wrapped
snug in a silken blanket.
They connect me to some
wires, tubes and other gadgets
that make a cacophony of sounds,
each with a different timbre
that rudely interrupts the other.
Haven’t eaten since yesterday and
now, inhaling into the mask,
this air is tasteless
and cannot satisfy
my ravenous appetite.
I do as I’m told
and take another deep breath in.
Suddenly,
I am awake.
Footnotes
This article has been peer reviewed.