casualty

1. people rushing in and rushing out constant movement softly i approach her glare cuts through me i apologise not once but many times my words slowly swallowed by fear 2. the questions begin: what? how many? when? how long ago? then why... i shake my head apologise again. they point me to a plastic chair 3. my name is called moments later i feel sleepy - sick. rehearsing my story i follow them into the sterile void. 4. the lady doctor studies me. "Panadol. Overdose." my brain fragments the words. "You die. Slowly. Your - liver - is eaten. Away. Two weeks. Maybe three. Nothing we. Can. Do. But. Give morphine." I hang my head accepting the sentence. Hearing the reprieve. "After twenty-four hours." 5. they tell me i have little veins. on the third attempt they finally draw blood. half an hour, they say. 6. the charcoal is not properly dissolved. i gag on a lump and vomit - pitch black. i take it as proof. 7. a nurse enters smiling with a fresh kidney pan she asks why i'm here. i wait for her reproach. she shakes her head and says "you silly thing." i smile weakly think about how silly i have been. 8. alone beseiged by details the curtains absurd flowers and butterflies pastel yellow green and blue a gap through which i see rushing feet and the bottom of the desk. there are cold patches on my chest from some machine; an oxygen tap at the wall... the bed is too narrow black vomit spots splattered here and there on the sheet i am sick and tired and cold 9. i think of dying wonder if they would let me go home and die. part of me resigned another part enraged all of me bad. 10. the man next door has had a stroke. they ask him "do you know who you are?" he answers yes they ask him "who are you?" he cannot answer nor can i. 11. the smiling nurse again. "do you want us to call your mum and dad?" i think of my mother's eyes and shake my head. 12. feeling sicker. listening to the clash and metal clattering, the old man moaning voices, footsteps. they talk about me - the girl in twelve, the overdose. "I remember a lady once took a whole plate of sleeping pills." i remind myself that i have done nothing to deserve compassion." 13. i think they have forgotten me i lie still too hopeless to move. the tear tracks the odd weakness in my knees. remembering. 14. standing at the sink so filled by darkness the half-empty glass of tap water the box discarded on the bench smashed glass and two to go. swallow. swallow. 15. half awake. half waiting to die. amazed at my daring. determined not to give in. 16. and like a bucket of water a sudden shock of fear screaming WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? moments hours of hesitation - torn between the fear of death the fear of living on. choosing the devil i knew. 17. the tests are back. another needle pierces my arm. the smiling nurse says something. i smile back. 18. i want to pray. god, i whisper - that is all... i feel his anger burning me i whisper, sorry. wishing i could cry. 19. a woman is rushed screaming straight into the operating room. i listen to the drama - noticing more the silence when she is gone. 20. again thoughts of family how to break the news whether to tell. again i wish for death. 21. the curtains drawn the smiling nurse explains what happens next. she readies the wheelchair - puts the band on my arm - leaves me with a set of men's pyjamas to put on. 22. with tears i face reality. i will live. 23. they wheel me out barefoot my clothes in my lap blanket wrapped around me looking out at the stars i see my future. but there are no tears left. back