LIT 1

HEIZEL

April 04, 2013

Unhurriedly, I opened my eyes. Even after feeling kind of wobbly, I wonder why I keep hearing a buzzing sound as if there’s a machine around where I am right now. A white ceiling flashed before my eyes and the strong scent of alcohol lingered on my nose. Right there and then, I knew I am in a hospital.

“You’re awake,” said a voice. I, absolutely, am, I wanted to say but my lips were too pursed to utter even a single word. All I can feel is the pain I am not sure of where it is coming from but it’s killing this body.

“Do you need anything, Miracle?” asked the nurse once again. I did not answer. I noticed the pin attached to her uniform which says Oncology Department. Miracle is a cancer patient and today, I am her.

This is nothing new. Being in an alternate course of events, entering another person's body, turned into my habit after such a long time. I am no superhuman nor a Marvel character or at all you found on the TV yet there's one thing I can make certain of, I am always someone else. Last time, I was a little youngster who came from a broken family. The following day, I was a hooligan kid from the streets of Hawaii. All of which I should manage their battles while having no clue about it. I am indiscriminately managing their life as it isn't part of my so-called ability to know their set of experiences.

I tried to move an inch, seeing if there’s a part of Miracle’s body that would hurt and there is but is bearable. I did my best to trace her skin and to study her features that I can still grasp even in this condition. Questions were written in the nurse’s face, but I must do this, at least for familiarity. She has this soft but very pale skin. She’s too thin, maybe because of her treatment, and has a lot of apparatus in her body, supplying whatever liquids I don’t have an idea about inside her, keeping her alive, and maybe taking just a little bit of the pain she’s dealing with.

Acclimating to a new body is the simplest thing somebody like me can do. I even learned what I needed to do to conform to the life of the individual who owns the body, to another timetable, to another environment. But the real challenge instigates when I started to take over the body for I don’t know how long. Once I slip up, I am not putting myself at risk but rather, the life of the real owner of the body I am in. It happened a lot of times and I don’t want the same fate to happen to Miracle. She’s going through a lot and the least thing I can do is to not contribute to her already miserable life. I promise to take care of your body, bud.

“Your family will attend to you in a few minutes,” the nurse said. “Is there anything you want to do before they arrive?”

I shook my head. I tried mumbling words but failed to produce a single word. They all sound like gibberish to me.

“Don’t force yourself to talk. It must be because of your new treatment,” she said. “I am so sorry you must go through a very high dose chemo,” she added as she took one side of my arms and injected an unknown substance into the tube connected to my hand. I squirmed a little when I felt the burning sensation on my arms but my nurse, I mean Miracle’s nurse, signaled me to stay in place. “I am very much hoping for your complete recovery, Miracle. I really am.”

That was heartfelt. I didn’t know that nurses can be this passionate about their patients. I've never been into a medical attendant's body and regardless of whether I'll be given an opportunity, I figure I won't get by in their profession. I am not fond of seeing blood and dealing with patients and patience. I am hot-tempered, as it's been said.

She picked up the tray containing the different vials of injecting solution. She must’ve added a lot of those in my dextrose when I was asleep. She was too harsh if she did that. She offered a genuine smile before going out of my hospital room, making me feel quite better but not so better compared to my old self — the real me.  

Much the same as what the nurse’s stated, Miracle's family began to go into the room one after another. I got to a portion of Miracle's memory to be familiar with their names and what are their major roles in her life.

“Oh, my baby!” exclaimed a woman in her mid-40s or 50s. She has this wavy, blonde hair in a muddled bun and a quite healthy body. She’s wearing a simple white dress covered by a dim-colored cardigan. Her mascara’s a little wreck and is all over her eye and her eye sacks proved that she hasn’t had some adequate sleep yet. “How are you feeling?”

Absolutely, not fine, I wanted to state yet ended up keeping those musings in my mind. She diverted her gaze on the man alongside her, Miracle's father as indicated by her dubious memory.

“Why she’s not saying something? Is she…a mute now?” she said, panicked evident in her voice.

I am not mute; my lips were simply excessively stuck to one another they won't open.

I attempted to move yet halted when I felt another stinging torment in my back. I can only groan when the pain grew from my back up to my chest. I can even feel it to the rest of my body parts. The next thing I knew, everything became chaotic and my visions were clouded to even see a thing. I heard another continuous humming sound but is different than the buzzing sound I heard earlier, it’s as if it’s about a warning or something.

Miracle’s parents continuously cried and asked for the doctor’s assistance. Then, people wearing white coats started to enter the room while I heaved for more air. For the time being, I can just sympathize with Miracle's torment, however, her life and her safety are out of my league. I was unable to spare her—just like those other bodies I had before, I couldn’t do anything to protract their lives.

Let’s put it this way, death—the thing practically all human beings dreaded, is imminent. Whether we liked it or not, we'll arrive at where life will reach its end, where living appears to be incomprehensible, for everything that started must come to an end, and that’s the reality. I’ve been into the past and to the future, and I perceived how people crazed over the idea of battling death and approach the point of immortality yet every one of them, fizzled.

It sucks, I know, particularly in case you're afraid to be distant from everyone else in light of the fact that you will bite the dust alone. However, aren’t we share the same fate? Regardless of whether we have endless companions, family, and other love ones, aren’t we all die alone?

I am not saying this to elevate death or to reveal to you that the possibility of not existing is the thing that you ought to adjust to, however, I am stating this to reduce your dread or perhaps, to give you a thought of what life will be in the event that you become somebody like me.

“Time of death, eight a.m,” said the physician attending to Miracle’s body. I can just gander at them from far off and couldn’t help but to recall how this scene was extremely recognizable to me.

I perceived how Miracle soul isolated from her body and when our eyes met, I saw her disarray, perhaps like any other souls I come across, she wondered who I am—a question I’ve been pondering for so long yet I was unable to gather the right answer. The only fact I know is that I am not a mermaid but with only a simple touch, I can make someone forget about me. I am not a time traveler, but I am very prone to waking up to other people’s bodies, to a different scenario, to a different timeline.

If someone will ask me who I am, my only answer will be…I am someone lost in time.