Evanescent

“Count to 20,” the anesthetist said. One, two, three, four and I was out. After several hours, I guess, I slowly came back in the recovery room.

It was the most peaceful moment of my life. I was not there.

It is not accurate. The subject, “I,” wasn’t there for several hours. And I recognized the fact that I didn’t exist. No dream, no nightmare, no nothing.

My then boyfriend was waiting for me to wake up in the recovery room. The subject, “I,” slowly started to focus, still feeling groggy and peaceful. I wanted to stay there longer, where no subject “I” was. It was just a simple biopsy operation for breast cancer.

Then, sudden commotion was heard. The door to the recovery room slide open and EMS personnels rushed in. Another door to the operation area slide open.

An old man in the waiting room was panic-stricken and was trying to figure out what was happening on the other side of the door. A medical personnel was explaining why EMS was called in. They didn’t have the equipments to deal with the specific kind of medical emergency the man’s wife was in.

My then boyfriend was in shock. He had been waiting in the same room with the old man for the last couple of hours. “That man must have had coffee as usual this morning with his wife before they came to the hospital. He didn’t think it could be the last time…,” he said. I don’t know what happened to the wife.

Life is evanescent. It could have been me, who didn’t come back. And it’s not bad not to be. I am not afraid of dying and I want to live fully while I am here, until there comes the time of no dream, no nightmare, no “I.”

It’s not bad at all.