India

So, I totally thought I was in India. And I remember watching the television, and seeing all the commercials for hamburgers from various joints, like MacDonalds, Wendy's, Arby's and stuff like that. And this was so strange to me because I thought, why are they advertising cow meat in a country like India where they don't eat beef? Yeah, I know, funny stuff.

I thought I was in a children's hospital, because the only equipment that could save me was in a children's hospital. I thought that I had gotten sick on my birthday and just fainted somewhere and no one knew what happened. I thought a blue folder I could see out on a shelf outside of my ICU room was filled with medical information about me, information compiled by my husband. I thought that when I came into the hospital that so many medical professionals were out sick that they were down to 33% capacity.

I kept watching the TV because I thought my infant son (I fluctuated from thinking I had a boy or a girl), had been kidnapped from my dad when he was bringing my son home from the hospital. Someone had snatched him from his arms before he could put him in the car outside the hospital. And I was waiting for news on the TV. But my husband kept telling me that our baby was fine, it was at our home with its grandmother and big brother.

I thought I'd had a son and that his name was Paul and that he had died. I thought the pictures on the wall were of my newborn daughter and son, that I'd somehow had twins.

I thought that my husband was battling the doctors to have me transferred back to the hospital in Iceland. I thought that he'd contacted a helicopter to take me back, and that he was having it land right next to my room. The noise was deafening and everything shook. Nurses and doctors were running scared. There was so much rain just hammering the window behind me. I saw men with guns running outside my room. I didn't get transferred and my husband signed some sort of paperwork saying that this was all just a misunderstanding due to language barriers and miscommunication. A nurse had to get help for the trauma she suffered, I didn't like her, she told me that it wasn't fair that I was getting special treatment when there were children suffering that needed the help more than I did.

None of this actually happened, but to me it feels like a real memory. As real as me sitting right here, right now, typing this on the computer. And that is such a weird feeling, because there isn't really a compartment in my brain to put that in. It wasn't a dream but it didn't happen.

Next came the paranoia.

To be continued...