The Other Me
‘The Broken Road’ iv. I woke, groggy, in Recovery. A nurse told me I had a clicker in my hand for morphine. Then she wheeled my bed to my ward. It would’ve been early very early morning. I drifted in and out of sleep. The leg must’ve hurt, because come the morning they took the morphine clicker away as they said I’d used it too much – not that I remember using it at all. But things were going to be okay. Surely. Doctors did their morning rounds and came to talk to me. They pulled the sheet away from my leg. I expected to see a plaster cast. Uh…
The Other Me
‘The Broken Road’ iii. I sat in the middle of the road, several meters from the intersection. From my realisation to landing here, I couldn’t remember a single thing. My first instinct was to get up and get off the road, but I’d lost all sense of my right leg from the ankle down. My foot, my ankle, the bottom of my shin, all felt disconnected – the leg was broken. Still, that wasn’t even my main concern. I had to get off the road. Seated here, I was below eye-level. If another car turned, they wouldn’t see me until it was too late. I flipped around onto my knees…