Great Times Are Coming

Walking out of the hospital makes me queazy. Most people feel this way while walking into a hospital. No, I feel like not even an ER or operating room can compare to this uneasy feeling twisting in my stomach. I hold onto my stomach while I gape at a group of doctors (they look like The Dream Team from Grey's Anatomy!!!) calling codes, booking an OR (blah blah blah and other shit I learned from Grey's), and rushing towards the vehicle with blinking red and blue lights.

An emergency ambulance is parked near the entrance of the hospital because someone is in labor. The Dream Team crowds the driveway; they place a young soon-to-be-mom on a gurney while asking her name, age and how long she's had her contractions. The wide-eyed woman is screaming until her face flushes a reddish color. The veins on the side of her neck are popping. She's as loud as a hectic street, for sure. Her shrieks automatically fill the tight air around me, but the one thing clear on my mind is how queasy I am. And that can be from the way Bethany's fingers strummed her ukulele or her glowing smile on her pale lips. Everything about her tiny instrument to the way Beth looked while humming makes me queasy all over again.

Queazy until my legs start to weaken.

Uneasy until my chest begins to tighten.

I don't get terrified at first because maybe it's just symptoms from this gooey feeling for my cousin's girlfriend.

But no, apparently it's more than that.

Now my body starts to fall and I expect it to hit the pavement but someone catches me. They, whoever they are, clutch onto my neck and watch me with the most frightful look in their eyes.

Immediately, I feel nothing.

My eyes give up on me, and the last thing I hear is, "hey kid, you okay?" before my eyelids drop.