Cautiously, I admitted, “In my mind, there is a very high
bridge.”
I had been lying in bed for nearly two months, sick, and
suffering, and frightened that I would not survive. Every moment was rigidly
programmed to ensure my survival: water, pills, food, water, bath, sleep, water, pills, food, shower,
sleep, water, pills, food, water, bath, water, sleep. I would creep, bent and trembling, from my bed, to the bathroom, to the kitchen, and back to my bed, the fatigue consuming. Constant
pain, like being devoured very slowly
and thoughtfully by a malicious force, my bones picked clean. And fear. Terror. Nausea. Dizziness. Confusion. My betraying mind roaming through the
shadows of unfriendly terrain, distorting, chanting, mocking, refusing to return to the places that once
brought me pleasure or comfort. My heart hammering, skittering, and suddenly
sliding down to a slow thud that would make me think, “I am dying. I don’t
want to live like this.”
In the nights, I would lie awake, profoundly aware of the sensation of tiny aliens crawling under my skin, my hungry lungs gasping for breath that would not satisfy, the thoughts of an unknown
thinker worming into my mind. Dark thoughts. Desperate. That bridge, beckoning.
And, me, executing an eternal, arching swan dive, so peacefully, into lavender twilight.
Each morning, I would drift, finally, into exhausted slumber
and jolt awake a couple of hours later, anxious, frightened by the thoughts of the previous
night. What was happening to me? And, how could I tell anyone? They would surely declare me insane, and lock me away. Many weeks passed this way.
Then, when I had gone countless days
with my head, neck, and throat engulfed in a cold fire, and the left side of my jaw almost clamped shut by muscle spasm, I
called my sister, sobbing hysterically. “I don’t think that I can do this!” I
wailed. “It’s too hard. It’s too much! It needs to stop. Nothing is making it
stop!” I felt lost to myself, and the pain had driven me to unfathomable
despair. I wanted nothing more than to go very far away, to a place where there would be no pain. Deep spasms of grief erupted from my body, and I cried, shuddering, until I could
cry no more.
My sister talked to me slowly, quietly. She reminded me how much
she loved me, how utterly she cherished me. She quieted my tears. She made me
laugh. She brought me back.
When I told her about the bridge, she said, without
hesitation, “Walk across.”
