Kicked!

That felt like God gave you a kick up the backside, did it not?

The car swerved smoothly around the bends of the winding road. Sitting in the back seat, he felt like he was on a roller coaster, swinging from side to side and up and down. He knew that it was not the case, the driver was not speeding and the road was fairly straight. But, he felt it anyways. To his right, she was still holding his hand, looking out of the window. "My hands are still so cold," he thought as the car drove up to the white hospital building and stopped beneath the big, bold, red letters that said "EMERGENCY".

He had been late, as always. He had jogged around half a kilometer and was a little out of breath when he met her at the park. That was when it had started. He had started to feel weak. He was already out of breath and he thought that the feeling would pass. He had tried to cheer up her bad mood with a couple of jokes and they had seemed to be working. And then he felt dizzy, just a little bit. Up ahead was a small stone bench and he walked towards it.

"I need to sit down for a minute," he said as he slumped down onto the bench. The stone was warm in the late afternoon sun. "What happened?" she asked, still laughing as she sat beside him.

"Nothing... just a little out of breath... is all."

He was breathing heavily now and as he looked around it suddenly seemed like somebody had turned up the 'brightness' dial on the world. Everything was looking so bright, like the sun had suddenly turned up a couple of notches. He could feel his head throbbing at the back. 

What is happening? You are just out of breath is all. Just take a few deep breaths.

"Are you alright," she was asking. Of course, I am alright woman. Have you never seen anyone out of breath before. "Yes," he answered. "Do you want water?" she asked reaching into her bag and pulling out one of its permanent residents, the little blue water bottle that she always carried around. He took in a long deep drought from the bottle. Taking deep breaths, he waited for the dizziness to subside, only, it started to get worse. The world around him started to spin.

"Are you alright?" she asked again. He nodded silently, feeling another wave of weakness wash over him. "What happened?" she asked yet again in mock anger. Why is she making fun of this? Can't she see I am not quite okay? He tried to turn to her, to turn his head, but realized that he could not. His hands were gripping the rough serrated edge of the bench tightly, as if trying to get a grip on the spinning universe. His heart was pounding in his chest and he was feeling cold, so cold.

"What happened?" she asked again, the first hint of doubt creeping into her voice. He looked up, everything was fading around him and in spite of himself, he felt sweat upon his brow; that and the first, cold fingers of fear somewhere deep in his heart. She put a hand on his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her looking at him, but she seemed so far away.

"Can't... speak...," he said. "Feeling weak." His voice was coming from somewhere far away and his heart was racing in his chest. He made another futile attempt to turn to her. He wanted to lie down. Lie down, sleep. Sleep and everything will be fine. He tried to lean back and realized that there was no backrest. 

"Need... to lie... down..." He put his head on her shoulder. She seemed taken aback for a second, but put her hand to his face, anyway. She never liked public displays of affection. What are you doing? "Tell me what is happening," she implored now. Can't you see I cannot speak? The world slowly started to fade, like the last shot of a film slowly blanking out. Everything was going dark and the sounds were muffled; like someone had wrapped his head in a large cotton cloud and he was hearing through it. And then, his eyes went blank.

Have I blacked out? Yes, I must have that's why I can't see anything. Well, I had always thought that if I can't see anything, it will be dark. But it's not dark now. This is more like grey. "Can't see," he said weakly. "What," she asked leaning in to him. He could feel her hot breath on his forehead now. "Can't see," he said again, a little louder this time. "What do you mean 'can't see'? Can't you see anything?" Of course, I can't see anything. What else do you think I am saying? What is happening? And then he realized that he might be dying. This might be a heart attack or a stroke or something. They always said that your life would flash before you when you died. He waited for his life to flash before him; and then he waited some more still feeling the warmth of her hot breath, the warmth of her body. Maybe it's not time yet. Maybe I still have a chance. "I think I need help," he whispered to her. Am I slurring over my words. That did not sound right. "I think I need help," he said again starting to feel very afraid.

He had wondered, many a time what he would feel if he had faced death some time. He had imagined that he would feel a great realization, the answer to some philosophical question or maybe an inspirational idea that would come to him at that moment. Now, sitting on a stone bench in a park, out of breath and near blind, he realized that there was only one thought in his head. He did not want to leave her. I do not want to leave you. What will happen to you if I die? What will you do? Then he realized that she was not as helpless as he was probably imagining. She had never been helpless. In fact, it had always been him who had needed help. She had been his strength and not the other way around. He gripped her elbow tightly. I don't want to leave you. I don't want to go. I want to grow old with you. The blankness was complete now. Are my eyes closed or open? He felt that there were open, but something was pulling them shut. Something was pulling him down. From far away, he heard her calling out his name.

"Bring someone," somebody whispered in his own voice from somewhere far away. Yes. Go and bring someone. Go so that I can come back to you.

He fell on the stone bench like falling on a foam bed. Has she gone? Everything was almost blank, except for the sounds of traffic from somewhere very far, far away. He realized his eyes were still open, only he still could not see a thing. Close your eyes. Close your eyes and sleep. His ind was playing games with him. He would never awake if he closed his eyes. Let it go, let it all go. It's so easy. You'll just drift away. It was so difficult, so difficult to try to remain awake. With every cell in his body, he strained to hear the sounds of traffic; those sounds were anchoring him to this world. Let it go. Let it all go and you can rest. Rest. Rest. Sleep. He felt his eyelids drooping.

And suddenly he heard her voice. He could not understand what she was saying, but there were other voices talking to her, with her. Is my voice one of them? He felt strong hands grip his legs, his shoulders and lift him. He thought he was lifting himself and then he was suspended in air. Someone was rubbing his hands. His hands were cold, so cold. Somebody else, put something to his lips and said "Drink." He sipped the warm liquid gratefully and realized it was tea. The world slowly appeared around him, pulsating, flashing amidst the greyness that had become his home for the last few moments. His eyes searched and found her form. I am never going to leave you, no matter where I go.