Journey

A short prose about a heart wrenching journey I took a little over a year ago

Taking a deep breath I step through the glass doors and into the main foyer. There is a small cafe and gift shop on my left and to my right the reception desk with woman who hides stark indifference behind a friendly smile and the gentle voice of my native tongue. The only thing that interests me at the moment is the staircase in front of me and I make my way towards it, feet padding softly on the marble floor, head bent solemnly. I always took the stairs. Elevators terrified me; there was just never enough space, never enough air.

At the top of the stairs, a glance over my shoulder tells me they have just stepped through the pristine glass doors. It doesn’t  bother me and I continue on my way, somehow knowing where I was headed. I am not in any hurry; my pace is just a little quicker than theirs. It has always been. A quick glance ahead reveals a seemingly endless white corridor, white fluorescent lights glared and flickered above. I meet no one on my journey and the air is thick with apprehension, white noise and the murmured observation and half remembered recollections of the past from my two companions, still several paces behind me.

The corridor ends in another foyer. One less grand, less bright, less inviting. Several other corridors stretch away, each heading in its own direction, each holding its own secrets and opportunities, and it was towards a set of double doors to my left that I stop. Whilst I wait for them to catch up, a million ‘what ifs?’ run through my mind and my breath comes out in nervous, shaky gasps as I struggle back tears. I was off again down another corridor as soon as they had rounded the corner.

For them it was probably just a stroll, for me every step was an effort. I had never liked hospitals. They smelt like sickness and death, disinfectant and fear. It was a simple knee replacement operation not a major life-saving surgery that had an 80% chance of going horribly wrong. Still, I tremble a little as I walk down the hallway, each step bringing me closer to him, closer to tears. They are starting to catch up to me now; my steps grow slower and more hesitant.

I have always associated hospitals with death. Don’t know why, but somewhere along the track my mind made that little connection and it stuck. I don’t like hospitals, and the corridor which seemed endless now seems far too short and I now wish I had slowed my pace.

I’m almost there and the ‘what ifs?’ are now running around wildly in my mind and every outcome of a simple operation, all the possibilities, all the absurdities charge around blindly as the first tear trickles down my flushed cheek and I take the final step.

Author's Note

Please just ignore any slip ups in tense (it is meant to be written in present tense). As always, feedback and constructive criticism is always appreciated.

Reviews

[CC]

wow...all the emotions and thoughts that whirl through the mind in a few short seconds, gracefully narrated to the page... style.

[Greg Skura]

I think of a hospital as a repair shop, although sometimes the repairs don't go so well!
It is just hilarious that I stumbled (pun intended) onto this story (still laughing) as today I am laid up with water on the knee (still laughing) and some possible soft tissue damage. I, just like you do not really like the repair shop.
Thank you for sharing! Cheers! (I'm still laughing)