Get Down With the Sickness

I know what it's like to die....almost.
I know what it's like to fade away like that.
     When I first got the kidney stone it didn't feel like anything, really.  Bad period, I thought.  It only took a few days to send me spiraling towards renal failure.  I got tired, I lost any appetite, I got dizzy and I felt like my body wasn't my own.  By the time I got to the hospital I had entered a lovely, hazy tunnel towards death that felt so soft and inviting.  I just wanted to sleep. 
     There was no fear.  That's the way I think I want to go, when I have to go.  Not now.  Whenever.  That slow fade.  The fog.  The lack of pain or care.  Altogether better than most of the alternatives I've seen up close and personal.  So no.  No pain or fear.  Not until they told me I'd be operated on.  Then, the fear came back in spades, but they quickly got me in and sedated me and did what they had to do to save my life.  When I woke up, the fear was gone again. 
     What replaced fear?  Happiness.  Calm.  I realized that, while I was spread-eagle in that hospital bed, I had no responsibilities but to survive, to live.  I had no one and nothing to worry about but me (and I never really worried about me).  In short, for a little while at least, that I was free in so many ways. 
     Besides the fact that I couldn't get up for a while without calling a nurse and the fact that I had the most annoying room-mate ever, the fact was that I was my only legitimate concern at that point.  It felt so good, I can't really tell you how good.  It set me free, this sickness (at least it did for a while) from being constantly on guard duty, constantly worried about everyone else but me, constantly stressed.  I have a feeling there are a lot of people who spend time there who feel the same.  I think my mom did.  ...and, yes, it felt good being the center of everyone's attention.  That felt good too, I won't deny it. 
     They woke me up every ten minutes for blood or drugs or tests though, and the guy down the hall was insane with late-stage Altzeimers and they brought me my little nephew and I missed him a whole lot, so I really wanted to leave.  I was there for a week-end that felt like months and I hate hospitals and that place was no exception to that rule.  So, I left, driven off the property in an expensive wheelchair.  I wanted to walk out but they wouldn't let me.   Then I went home and vowed to never be that sick again and never to leave my family in the lurch like that where they had to actually care for and about me to the detriment of the rest of their very full lives. 
Never again.
So far, so good.