Coma

I suffered from an identity crisis when I was in my drug-induced coma.

I was a Japanese woman, in my twenties. Living in Canada shortly after WWII. The daughter of Japanese immigrants. I lived in a small apartment, two floors up with a little balcony.

Weird, huh...

I did not have a husband, I did not have children. My life felt extremely empty and I felt very alone.

You know how when you're watching a movie and everything is just sort of going along and everything seems fine but then there's this undercurrent of something, like you just know that there's something sinister going on but you can't quite put your finger on it.

That's how I felt. I knew something was wrong but I didn't know what. I didn't know who I was and I couldn't grasp what it was that felt off for me.

In my coma dream I ended up at a hospital. I did not know why, but I knew I was in a hospital. The decor at the hospital was all white and glossy and minty green. The nurses wore hats and all the uniforms were very crisp and white. Everyone seemed to have a cup of coffee, all the time, I could smell coffee, always.

I thought that maybe I was in this hospital because I just had a baby? But I didn't remember being pregnant, so why would I have a baby?

I felt like I was in a fog, but not in a regular fog, where you don't know where you are or where you're going, but in an identity fog, I couldn't find me! It's like when you're trying to remember the name of a movie or an actor and it's right there, on the tip of your tongue but you just can't remember it. That's how I felt, all the time. Super frustrating and very scary.

In my coma dream I would sort of swoosh from being at my apartment and to being at the hospital. When I was at the hospital I could not move. I could see a corner of the ceiling and some monitors, just because that was how my head was positioned. And every time I would see that stupid corner ceiling, I was actually waking up from the drug-induced coma. And I would panic because I couldn't move, and I couldn't speak. And every time I managed to open my eyes, some very nice person, smiling at me, would come and administer more drugs and I would go under again.

I remember each and every time waking up, trying to scream to get attention, trying to scream that something wasn't right, I didn't know what was happening and it scared the bejeesus out of me. I thought if I could just talk to this person, explain that they were in control of my life and I didn't even know what my life was, if I could just talk to them, they'd let me wake up and figure things out.

It was a long three weeks in a coma. You know when you're dreaming and you know that it's a dream and you're just waiting to wake up. I had that feeling of waiting, but the waking part would never come. So I was just floating, trying to remember so hard who I was and what I was supposed to be doing, because this sure as hell wasn't it.

When they did finally bring me out of the coma I was smiling because I saw my husband, and I remembered him, and I was so happy to remember. But I was crying because in my coma dream someone told me that they had just offered my husband the choice of being spared all this fear and uncertainty, but instead he would not know me and we wouldn't have our children. How scary is that!

When I awoke, my husband held my hand and told me that I had been asleep for a little while but that everything was going to be fine. Just seeing him and hearing him and feeling him, I knew that he loved me and he would always be with me.

They woke me up the day after my 31st birthday. Does that mean I'm still 30 ;) Anyway, I think we'll have a big celebration on my next birthday, I should get two cakes, yes?

After I woke up, I experienced some hallucinations, some delirium, some things that I still feel like happened, but now know that didn't. I'll get into that next.

The worst part of waking up is not knowing whether or not you're still in the coma, and just dreaming something new.

To be continued...