seshat's blog post - Slipping out of the box

Like a cocooning cat, I am tucked away in a little box in my head, preparing myself to feel what I expect to feel. It’s 3.35 PM when the doors finally open: visiting hours in the intensive care unit for stroke patients. After waiting for 20 minutes in the dark hallway, between musty carpet-covered walls, the open and bright hospital ward blows a fresh wind through my mind.

But as I enter the room, everything I imagined crumbles. That man lying there, no, he isn’t my grandfather, he isn’t the energetic, indestructible grandfather I’ve always known.
It’s not his face looking at me blankly, looking through me as I smile awkwardly and say hello.
It’s not his body, so small in the hospital bed, so lost between the machines, tubes and wires.
It’s not his voice calling out a hollow yes every time the nurse calls his name, in a twisted game of marco polo.

The box, the snug little box inside my head is abruptly turned upside down, throwing me into a disconcerting numbness. I see my uncle turn aside to hide the tears in his eyes. I hear my grandmother’s voice tremble. I feel nothing. I’m a visitor walking into an empty room and the window is wide open.