TRAPPED IN BLACK
At the precise moment I realize my only chance for survival is to reach the cell phone 12’ from the bathroom shower (where moments before I had recreated the shower curtain scene from Psycho) I come to the realization that it will be impossible.
…..“NOOOOOOO!! DEAR LORD NOOOOO NOT AGAIN!” I scream at the realization.
I’m stuck in one position, contorted, feeling like every ball and socket in my body is on the verge of suddenly wrenching apart, each bursting ball breaking through to the surface looking like a round egg emerging from the shell of skin ripped and torn to shreds, eggs dripping with blood.
I’m suspended in space, frozen in pain, fearful of moving a micrometer the thought too excruciating to even contemplate.
Warm water cascades against my back wrenched sideways away from the faucets. My hair slippery with hair conditioner.
One end of the curtain pole rests on the lip of the toilet seat, the other points downward resting on the grills of the hot air register on the floor not far from my hand.
The white cloth curtain and vinyl lining are wrapped like a very thick rope, half on and half off the pole. The metal clips are scattered from one end of the pole to the bunched clips held in place by the register at the other end.
An inkling of a solution briefly overrides the pain. “I need tools. I can use the pole as a cane.”
With snarling teeth and awesome weight the pain takes away any further thought processes, replacing them with single minded agony.
Panic, from a medical standpoint (in anticipation of what will happen at the hospital if I ever get there) along this journey to survive, doesn’t really exist. The challenge of not being able to reach my cell phone 12’ away on the breakfast bar, does.
I’m feeling stupid, trapped, surrounded by an invisible force field three feet thick of glowing hot bricks then, freezing crystals of ice on the same bricks, back again to glowing hot and ice, on and off on and off and … so on. You get the message, right?
In a word, unrelenting.