Hosptial Anticiption

I walked into the hospital waiting room and sat down desperate for some good news about my mother. The hospital was thriving for 4 am. I glanced around the room filled with morbidly ill people, searching for a familiar face or at least a face from this millennium. Unsatisfied with what I saw, I leaned myself back into my chair, pressing my frigid skin against the clammy vinyl. With my eyes shut tight, I let my mind float away from my body and let my ears fill with the orchestra of the hospital waiting room, hoping that this would be my refuge from the fear of my petrifying reality. A serenade of hollow, mucus filled coughs and the tic, beep, bop of the many colossal machines, swallowed my empty thoughts and tore my eyelids open. Nothing had changed; I still peered around only to see people made solely of bones, covered so loosely with skin, which hung like pale, distasteful tissue paper wrapping a present of sticks. They could not change the way their bodies were aligned nor could they change the sullen looks that filled their faces. So, they just sat. Hoping for good news to come their way, like me. The stench of acidic lime cleaner lingered in my nose, becoming stronger each time I inhaled, until it burnt my throat. I heaved out a roaring cough, clearing my body from the toxic chemicals that had invaded it, only to be replaced with the foul taste of morning breath. Finally, the soft voice of a petite nurse called my name to speak with the doctor. Unsure of what the doctor might say, I shuffled each foot a little more hesitantly than I should have, losing the nurse as she turned a corner. Moving each foot more rapidly now, I started to run down the hallway, with my heart pacing each step. I reached the corner only to find a man painted with splatters of blood and his head bowed down. The man's face grew distant from me with his words even farther away as he started to say, “I'm sorry, Son.” A whirl of warm, moist wind brushed my skin as the floor rose to hit me in the head, as if trying to accuse me for what had happened. From this flurry came black, no sights, no sounds, no smells, no taste, nothing to feel, except empty darkness.