• Finally a break from all the drama
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“Oh dear, it sounds serious,” I say to the doctor, wondering if I really do have a freaking concussion.
I threw up all over the place after hearing my mum and the doctor spoke and now they think it’s a concussion as opposed to my fear of getting busted. But hearing him speak, I’m beginning to believe it myself.
“It is. But don’t worry; you’re in the right place. That’s why we insist on keeping patients for observation and…” he pauses dramatically, then adds, “encourage patients to do all the tests we deem fit, in regards to establishing the best way to treat them.”
“How will you treat this?” I ask, referring to the first part of his statement and ignoring his obvious pointed reference to the Oromandibular Dystonia tests.
“It’s just a simple matter of giving you additional oxygen. We caught it quickly so it’s not an issue,” he says.
As if on cue, a nurse rolls in with an oxygen tank. A result of my head trauma from the blows Chris inflicted on my head, is low oxygen supply to the vulnerable brain tissue. I’m being treated for it now.
He still hasn’t mentioned his conversation with my mum. The gas mask is placed over my face, and that will thankfully mean the end to any further conversation. I take a deep breath and my diaphragm contracts and moves downwards. As my lungs expand, the oxygen is sucked in through my nose and travels down my windpipe and into my lungs.
Paulo Coelho described intuition as the sudden immersion of the soul into the universal current of life, where the histories of all people are connected and we are able to know everything because it’s all written there. The oxygen travels to my air sacs as I take several more deep breaths and my gut says, be calm, all will be well.
The doctor, Chris, my mum, we are all connected in this moment, this second when my intuition has said, “Take it easy, it’s going to be okay.”
I visibly loosen up and sink deeper into my pillows. Happy with what they see, the nurse and doctor speak briefly between themselves and then let me know the nurse will be back to check on me in 15 minutes. They leave. My mum is allowed back into the room and sits quietly to watch as the oxygen hydrates my thirsty cells.
My diaphragm and rib muscles relax, reducing the space in my chest cavity as I breathe out. As my lungs deflate, I remember the clown on my 10th birthday party and how he would release the air out of the balloons. That’s what my lungs are doing, deflating like a party balloon. The carbon dioxide-rich air flows out of my lungs through my windpipe and out through my mouth. And the cycle starts again.
The human body is truly a marvel. It starts with the skeleton, with joints and hinges. To cut down on harmful friction, the body lubricates itself by manufacturing a jelly-like substance, just like the grease we would apply on machines for them to run smoothly.
The body has inbuilt AC that takes care of both our heating and cooling systems. Drops of perspiration pouring from millions of tiny sweat glands are just as effective as turning on a fan in your office.
The brain. Oh, the wonder of the brain, computing and controlling every action. I read somewhere that there is probably more wiring, more electrical circuitry, than in all the computer systems of the world put together. So if my brain is a computer, than the oxygen I’m inhaling right now is its power source and every breath I’m taking is restoring it to full charge.