April 5th, 2014

Blue Red

(no subject)

July 27th 1998

People often say that you see a white light or a tunnel. All I’m feeling is calm, very, very calm, extremely hot and incredibly spaced out. Maybe I’m not quite dead enough yet.

I can tell I’m fading away.

I will not die, I say angrily to myself.

In my semi-conscious state, I picture Win Hill, not far from my home. Its mountain-like peak stands above all the surrounding hills and can be seen from miles away. Every time I walk to the highest point in my village, I see it and even though we are separated by the vast heather moorlands, it cries out to me, reminding me that I belong in this area. This is where I was born and this is the countryside I am happy to live amongst.

I imagine the beautiful white beaches of Iona - its water so clear you can see the bottom when you travel across to the island by boat. The stone abbey with its beautiful cloisters, dominates the tiny village. I remember that day when the robin with its bright red breast kept flying in and out of the candlelight service bringing twigs back to its nest high up in the stone wall. I recall the way the island constantly calls to me and draws me back time and time again. How can I die and never return to my spiritual home once more?

I will not die! I have so much to live for.

It’s my birthday tomorrow. Thirty three is definitely too young to die.

I’ve yet to see the northern lights, go to a Eurovision Song Contest, or walk up Ben Nevis. I need to get in contact with my friend Kay, whom I haven’t spoken to for a few years. I want to see Bryan Adams again in concert and hear him sing Straight from the Heart. I want to be thirty four in twelve hours time. I want... I want... I want to not die.

I want to live.

I will not die before I have done these things.

There’s an oscillating fan that blows up and down, cooling my feverish body as I lie in my hospital bed. I slip into another semi-conscious dream where the wind blows against my face and body as I walk through the majestic mountains of Glencoe, I look around me as they surround me in their splendour.

The rhythmical sssshhhh noise the fan makes each time it passes my ear changes my dream to the summer when I relaxed with a glass of wine with my best friend on the pebble beach at Durdle Door. We watched the sun set through the limestone arch. I remember how the tiny pebbles made a very similar small, peaceful, regular sssshhhh sound as the gentle evening waves washed over them.

Relaxed and unafraid, I promise myself that when I’ve got through this I will always remember this serene feeling. I decide that if I can look death in the face this calmly, then I can conquer the panic attacks I have suffered with all my life. I swear I will never fear anything again.

I will not die; I will control this. Mind over matter.

My mom is by my bedside holding my hand. I can sense her worry. I remember the story she once told me about her best friend at junior school in 1941. She died from Peritonitis within two hours of becoming ill because her family couldn’t afford treatment and antibiotics at the hospital. I remember how it had upset and shocked her.

I know it’s a miracle that I’ve survived for two weeks with it undetected.

I thank God for the NHS, for hospitals, doctors, nurses, and the antibiotics currently attached to my arm.

I tell her not to worry, that everything will be all right, that I will be all right, I’m in the right place and I’m getting the right treatment. She replies that me she loves me. I smile and tell her I love her, too, and assure her that it won’t be the last time I ever tell her that.

I can see the tears in her eyes.

I make a vow to myself that I will return to Iona, Glencoe, and Durdle Door. I will do all the things I have always planned to do. I will walk out of this hospital and one day soon I shall once again feel the wind in my hair and the sun on my face.

Death is fighting hard to control and consume me, but I have made my choice to fight harder.

I will win and I will survive.


This is my entry for therealljidol, topic 4 - “Nobody can ride your back if your back's not bent”

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