The Cold Heart Beat

The fluorescent lights, oh I hate fluorescent lights. The constant sound of the monitor — the beeping and the scanning — and the sound of the pump when checking the pressure, the pressure that is elevated by the environment, the damn fluorescent lights.

And it just glares, all I can see is its reflection on the walls or the floor because if I lie on my back… the pressure of what I once had falls on me, the damn fluorescent lights glaring in my eyes. So, I’m on my side for comfort, on my side in a position my baby once was, just 30hrs ago; and in the midst of processing the pain and the loss, I see the nurses rushing — they are rushing to my room. In my delusion I think it was a dream and maybe they are coming to say they saved a soul. But they start making the bed next to me and draw the curtain dividing us. Someone else’s family starts moving in, and through the cracks of the curtain I see a glimpse of pampers, and a baby bag that was pre-prepped being placed on the floor. Aunties trying to discuss who’s taking the first shift, and a woman in a wheelchair with a bundle wrapped in her arms.

I just want to get out. away from the ammonia, the beeping, the uniforms, the damn lights.

I change positions to the glare against the wall, and as I go from left, to front, to right. As I turn, I see my guardian on the edge of her chair, ready to cater to whatever I may need, ready to catch whatever I could not hold. Then a glimpse of an empty cot at the foot of my bed, then back to the wall, with the reflection of the damn fluorescent lights — the only thing that seemed to remain constant in that whole place.

I was supposed to be discharged that night. I let my guardian go. and I found myself… in one more night, on my own, with a drying cannula in my arm and the ECG patches still on my chest and on my side. Alone... listening to a baby coo behind the curtain, and a new mother whispering, “mummy loves you; God loves you, and daddy is going to look after us.”

Meanwhile I receive calls of condolences and uncertain motivational words. A kind of “chin up,” and on the other end, video calls asking, “what’s the baby’s name?”  “How is mother doing?” and “Congratulations, we can’t wait to see her.”

On my end, the hospital just wants the bill, for a funeral that never really was. I came as one and a half people, and I left the place empty. They took out the cannula and ripped off the patches, checked my vitals, and told me to come back in two weeks. I just couldn’t wait to be out — out in the sunlight, away from the ammonia, away from the beeping, away from the uniforms.

Don’t be misled, I am not questioning fairness. I do not feel blame or resentment or hold any animosity. I am not even angry. My eyes were opened to something I will never forget. I learnt so many new things about how the world works, and I have come out with gratitude — and I learnt, I FUCKING HATE FLOURESCENT LIGHTS!

Nayamind. The Darkest Part of the Brightest Mind