The Day I Didn't Die

I lay there struggling for air, the fire-chief straddling me, pumping my lungs with his huge hands. I had never met the fire-chief before. But somehow, I knew this was him. For a moment we looked right into each others' eyes. But he never seemed to notice. Then, he was off me. For a second, I thought I must no longer be struggling for air. Then he was pounding my chest - very hard! Too hard! So this was what CPR felt like. If I'd had any strength at all I would have plowed my fist right into his jaw to make him stop. But I didn't. These people were trying to help me. But it was no use. I still couldn't breathe. And now, apparently my heart had stopped. But at least I wasn't struggling to breathe anymore. Then an oxygen mask was clamped to my face by the fire-chief's large hand. And I knew they must be rushing me to the hospital. It was all too much. My mind became a swirl. And I went to sleep. I woke up in a rush, sitting up, checking to make sure I was breathing. Then I realized I hadn't. I had woken up in a rush all right. But I was still lying down, unable to move. And as for breathing, that was being done for me. Tube in my throat. Oxygen mask around my head, now held in place by a strap rather than the fire chief's hand. I expected to hear the sound of a patient monitor, like on all those hospital shows. But I didn't. Either it was too faint, or the shows exaggerated it. I realized that TV shows were my only frame of reference. I had never been in a hospital room before, or at least not one where somebody was dying or near death, as I was now. I tried to look around, but couldn't see too much of the room. I was apparently too weak to even turn my head. And besides, I was no longer wearing my glasses. So I wouldn't have been able to make out much at a distance. There was a tube in my throat. That probably meant there were other tubes, other places in my body, if the TV shows could be trusted. It was a thought I didn't want to entertain. Here I was awake in a hospital room, all alone. That must mean I was stable. And I took it for a good sign. How long would it be before somebody else knew I was awake? Would that patient monitor which I couldn't hear, let somebody else know that my vital signs had changed? Or was that only on Star Trek? And had my vital signs changed at all? Just being awake, might not register any change on the monitor. If I could have done more to let somebody know I was awake, I would have. But all I could do was open my eyes, and I couldn't do that very well. I tried to make a sound, tried to scream. But I heard nothing. Maybe I'm deaf, I thought. But there was no reason for me to be deaf. Then again, there wasn't any reason why I should have stopped breathing. No reason why my heart should have stopped. Sure I was a little overweight, but most Americans were these days. So, how long would it be before somebody came? Didn't they make rounds and check on each patient every so many hours? How long had it been since they had checked on me? How long would it be before they checked on me again? What if they forgot me? What it they forgot me forever? Surely somebody would check on me. Perhaps I would be found by the janitor in the middle of the night. And he or she would become a hero for reporting that I had awaken. Though I might scare them to death in the process. Perhaps I would be forgotten here forever. Perhaps I had died. And they were just waiting for somebody to come by and take me to the morgue. But no, I still had the oxygen mask on. They wouldn't have left that running if I were dead. Perhaps it wasn't running, and they had just left the unstrapping of the mask to the cleanup crew. They didn't ever explain that on those TV shows. Yes, I was going to go crazy if somebody didn't show up pretty soon. Perhaps I should go back to sleep. But I couldn't. I was much too wide awake. Rating PG; Reading Level Very Easy 3rd Grade; Longest Word: Excruciatingly