three : emergency
She sank back, fading into herself, becoming less. Polysyllabic words rushed by on jelly legs, yelling. Words she didn’t understand. Subarachnoid. More words, white masks, plastic tubes. Nothing was real. Buccal midazolam. Nothing made sense. The words were questions now, she could tell from the way the voices lifted. Even these words were without meaning. Her name foreign. Can you hear me? Blue-gloved hands waved over her face. Her fingers twitched while her tongue lay useless in her mouth like a lump of meat. The room got smaller, voices louder, metallic. The pounding in her chest was a slowly declining staccato, replaced by the sound of crashing waves. Her eyes, now closed, stared into bright flashes of white, blue, yellow, red. Convulsions. Spittle. Nothing.
