Like A Blade

February 7, 2020

Kasumii's POV

I don't know what to do. I tried so hard to keep up my optimism for Jake because he worries easily. It seems that as much as I'm trying to convince him that things will be okay, I'm starting to be unsure myself. Earlier I was telling him that if I, dare I say it, die, that he should move on and that it wouldn't ultimately be a bad thing. Everyone dies eventually; it's just that some leave this earth sooner than others. It may not make sense why it had to happen, but it's amazing to focus on the sheer unfathomable concept that is death.

Simply put, death is when a person's vital functions have terminated for an extended period of time. But then, what is life? The opposite of death? If that is true, then the definition of life would be when a person's vital functions are working properly for an extended period of time. That definition of life makes us mere molecules, pieced together for one purpose: to die. Truly, are we not all searching for purpose? Going by those definitions makes for a very hopeless reason for us to live. In fact, it seems that there is no purpose for us to live.

If one thinks about what life is all about, he will see that it is more than just having functioning body systems. All the things that make life seem worth it, what we love, what we enjoy, our relationships, our service to others, even fighting through the hard times--these things are all beyond our physical body. I can't even begin to understand how thought processes work, how personalities are never completely the same, how even twins are absolutely unique, or how the spirit is spliced from soul and body.

Certainly, scientists have made great advancements to somewhat explain these amazing instances, but as for true understanding, no person can transcend that gap. I wonder if I will see with new eyes in Beyond. If there is truly a life after death, how does it differ from the life I live now? Will the definition of "living" change? Can you die in a life after death? I suppose I start thinking some rather crazy things when I'm immobilized in a hospital bed.

It's strange, even though my thoughts seem crazy, so does life in general. Yet we often do not spend time to think upon these things, and if we do, often it is only a cursory exchange. So many people are quite uncomfortable with the concept of death. For is there not only pain in life? I suppose it is the fear of the unknown that makes them worry. I do not deny that I'm scared, but somehow I feel this unusual peace, as if I were going to take a lovely vacation.

I watch as the door opens slowly and nurse peeks in, interrupting my train of thought. She gives me a warm smile. "Hello, my name is Cayce, and I will be your nurse for today! I am coming in to replenish your pain meds, as they are probably wearing off by now."

She reaches for the IV, but I stop her. "Wait!"

Cayce pauses mid-reach and looks at me. "What's wrong, honey? What can I help you with?"

I blush at her use of the children's term of endearment, but do not comment about it. Deciding to be honest, I speak up. "Wait. I want to feel. Earlier, it seemed like my legs were numb. Perhaps numb isn't the right word for it, but it was a really weird sensation, and I couldn't move my legs. Can you tell me what's happened and what I can do about it?"

She gives a soft sigh and that pitying look that adults give ignorant children crossed her face. That didn't look good. I brace myself for her answer, somehow already knowing what to expect.

"You are paraplegic," she begins.

Noticing my look of confusion, she explains. "That means that you are partially paralyzed. With time and physical therapy, you would be able to regain some use of your legs by strengthening the muscles and repairing neuron connections. For the time being, it is best to simply rest."

"How long do I have to rest?" I ask weakly. It had better not be too long.

"Complete recovery could take over six months." She looks sympathetic. I don't like that; something seems off. It seems a wise decision to hold back from voicing my dismay.

"Well... is there anything else?" I quip. "Why do I need pain meds when I can't feel that much?"

It hits me. Oh right, Jake said I broke my ribs. They don't hurt that much! It only feels like an angry llama stomped on my chest!

Unfortunately, she sees right through me.

"It'll help, I promise," she responds.

I am about to protest, but also wonder why exactly I want to protest. Did I really want to keep feeling the pain, if only to somehow keep in touch with myself? I don't even know why I wanted that anymore. I would have to think about it when I'm less tired and can think clearly. Sinking back to the bed, I sigh, annoyed with myself and a bit grumpy.

Cayce clicks something, but I don't care. I'm too tired to care. I'm too guilty to care. And I'm too confused to even wonder why. What on earth is wrong with me? I feel that I'm going insane, but am I? I seem to be all there, but that's subjective to my current knowledge. The drowsiness begins to overtake me, and a misty haze appears along the margins of my vision. Ugh, what is this stuff? Wait, does it really matter? Do I really matter? Does anything really matter? Probably not.