Post by B. Savage on Apr 13, 2011 11:36:09 GMT -5
The crowd is roaring.
"Brian. Brian."
Fingers snapping.
"What?"
"How many fingers do you see?"
"Uh…"
"Where are you?"
"Umm. I--"
Lights flashing.
"What’s your birthday?"
"Just-- gimmie a sec--"
"He’s losing it."
"No-- I’m--"
Loud voices.
"His eyes are rolling back in his head!"
"Wha--"
"Where’s that gaddam gurney?"
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
Brian gasped and started to choke.
‘What the hell?’ thought Brian as he woke up in a panic.
‘Where am I?’
‘How come I can’t breathe?’
He grabbed at the obstruction in his airway. Breathing was laborious. The machines around him started beeping and soon nurses were rushing through the sliding glass door.
"Bay Savage, o dur! O dur!"
Brian thrashed around to see who was yelling at him, not sure what they were saying, he still couldn’t breathe, and the signage didn’t make sense. The characters looked familiar, but they were accented and the words were unrecognizable to him.
"Doktor Kaya getir!" yelled one of the nurses as she helped to restrain a terrified Brian Savage. He was starting to understand what was happening, but he still couldn’t breathe right. He pulled at the tubes that seemed to be everywhere, trying to free himself from his surgical-tubing prison.
"Mr. Savage, stop!" yelled Dr. Ayden Kaya from the doorway. "If you remove your Trach tube the wrong way you could get hurt."
Brian tried to calm himself in order to slow his heart and breath rate.
"Where am I?" The frail question emanated from a tube sticking out of Brian Savage’s throat.
You are at the Atakoy Health Center in Istanbul. We’re only a few minutes from the Sinan Erdam Dome. But don’t get your hopes up for wrestling next week. You’ve just come out of a coma.
Brian winced in pain as he looked at the doctor and asked a second question, "What’s happened to me?"
Dr. Kaya, a Turkish man who studied medicine in England, sat in the chair beside Brian’s bed. He was quite a handsome man, an olive-skinned John Stamos. He had just a hint of a beard coming in. Savage concluded it must be late in the afternoon. The doctor placed his clipboard across his lap and looked Brian in the eyes.
"You were leaving the ring at your wrestling event when you collapsed. Paramedics couldn’t get a coherent response from you so they shipped you to the hospital. Shortly after arriving you slipped into a coma. PWE had you shipped to this hospital and a woman named--" the doctor referenced his chart, "--Rodriguez? Amerie Rodriguez. She called me and said I had to get you well in time for the next event. I told him there was nothing I could do as long as you were in a coma. It was pretty scary. You stopped breathing… it looked bleak for a while. Now that you’re up let’s see about getting that trach tube taken out, alright?"
Brian waved his hand as if so say ‘no’ and forced out another question as the doctor ceased his rise from the chair and sat again waiting to see what his patient wanted.
"How long ‘til Solitary?"
"I wouldn’t worry about that, what’s impo--" the doctor stopped, seeing Brian’s angry look. He smiled and replied, "Look, it’s five days from showtime there’s a small chance that you’ll make it to that show, but you have to follow doctor’s orders, clear?"
Brian nodded, convinced he’d be at that show.
"Okay," said Dr. Kaya, "Now, we’re going to put you under with a general while we remove that trach tube. You’ll be back with us in... maybe an hour, okay?"
Brian nodded again and the doctor patted him on the leg as he left the room and gave the nurses some instructions in Turkish. Postal was relieved, it seemed as though the worst was over. He tried to get comfortable while he waited for the surgery. His thoughts turned to the room surrounding him.
No cards. No balloons. Nobody.
He thought about Rachel. He wished so much that she was there, like she’d been so many times in the past. He thought of the scent of her perfume and he almost started crying. He thought about the fool he had been. The decisions he had made. The words of an old hymn came to his mind ‘Soul are you weary and troubled? No light in the darkness you see? There’s light for a look at the savior, and life more abundant and free.’ and he prayed. God, help.
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
"Brian. Brian."
Fingers snapping.
"What?"
"How many fingers do you see?"
"Uh…"
"Where are you?"
"Umm. I--"
Lights flashing.
"What’s your birthday?"
"Just-- gimmie a sec--"
"He’s losing it."
"No-- I’m--"
Loud voices.
"His eyes are rolling back in his head!"
"Wha--"
"Where’s that gaddam gurney?"
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
Brian gasped and started to choke.
‘What the hell?’ thought Brian as he woke up in a panic.
‘Where am I?’
‘How come I can’t breathe?’
He grabbed at the obstruction in his airway. Breathing was laborious. The machines around him started beeping and soon nurses were rushing through the sliding glass door.
"Bay Savage, o dur! O dur!"
Brian thrashed around to see who was yelling at him, not sure what they were saying, he still couldn’t breathe, and the signage didn’t make sense. The characters looked familiar, but they were accented and the words were unrecognizable to him.
"Doktor Kaya getir!" yelled one of the nurses as she helped to restrain a terrified Brian Savage. He was starting to understand what was happening, but he still couldn’t breathe right. He pulled at the tubes that seemed to be everywhere, trying to free himself from his surgical-tubing prison.
"Mr. Savage, stop!" yelled Dr. Ayden Kaya from the doorway. "If you remove your Trach tube the wrong way you could get hurt."
Brian tried to calm himself in order to slow his heart and breath rate.
"Where am I?" The frail question emanated from a tube sticking out of Brian Savage’s throat.
You are at the Atakoy Health Center in Istanbul. We’re only a few minutes from the Sinan Erdam Dome. But don’t get your hopes up for wrestling next week. You’ve just come out of a coma.
Brian winced in pain as he looked at the doctor and asked a second question, "What’s happened to me?"
Dr. Kaya, a Turkish man who studied medicine in England, sat in the chair beside Brian’s bed. He was quite a handsome man, an olive-skinned John Stamos. He had just a hint of a beard coming in. Savage concluded it must be late in the afternoon. The doctor placed his clipboard across his lap and looked Brian in the eyes.
"You were leaving the ring at your wrestling event when you collapsed. Paramedics couldn’t get a coherent response from you so they shipped you to the hospital. Shortly after arriving you slipped into a coma. PWE had you shipped to this hospital and a woman named--" the doctor referenced his chart, "--Rodriguez? Amerie Rodriguez. She called me and said I had to get you well in time for the next event. I told him there was nothing I could do as long as you were in a coma. It was pretty scary. You stopped breathing… it looked bleak for a while. Now that you’re up let’s see about getting that trach tube taken out, alright?"
Brian waved his hand as if so say ‘no’ and forced out another question as the doctor ceased his rise from the chair and sat again waiting to see what his patient wanted.
"How long ‘til Solitary?"
"I wouldn’t worry about that, what’s impo--" the doctor stopped, seeing Brian’s angry look. He smiled and replied, "Look, it’s five days from showtime there’s a small chance that you’ll make it to that show, but you have to follow doctor’s orders, clear?"
Brian nodded, convinced he’d be at that show.
"Okay," said Dr. Kaya, "Now, we’re going to put you under with a general while we remove that trach tube. You’ll be back with us in... maybe an hour, okay?"
Brian nodded again and the doctor patted him on the leg as he left the room and gave the nurses some instructions in Turkish. Postal was relieved, it seemed as though the worst was over. He tried to get comfortable while he waited for the surgery. His thoughts turned to the room surrounding him.
No cards. No balloons. Nobody.
He thought about Rachel. He wished so much that she was there, like she’d been so many times in the past. He thought of the scent of her perfume and he almost started crying. He thought about the fool he had been. The decisions he had made. The words of an old hymn came to his mind ‘Soul are you weary and troubled? No light in the darkness you see? There’s light for a look at the savior, and life more abundant and free.’ and he prayed. God, help.
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /