The first steps were the hardest as they always seem to be. But the balancing act with the crutches quickly became easy and a point of personal pride. The worst part was my muscles which groaned as they slid back and forth under my skin. They complained more than a thirteen year old girl who isn’t allowed to stay out late with friends.
The Physical Therapist was in step with me the whole way making helpful suggestions about every little detail which I hadn’t yet considered. We’d made it all the way to one end of the hallway together and stopped for a short break, which I didn’t feel was at all necessary.
“Okay,” he was saying, “now we’ll try it a little quicker...” But he was interrupted when his pager rudely beeped. “Looks like I’ve got some kind of emergency.” He looked at me, “Sorry, I have to go. You should head back to your room. I’ll let the nurses’ station know I had to jet early and they may be able to get someone else to help you this afternoon.” Without another word he was gone, which I thought was odd.
I looked in the direction of the loop we had just completed and saw only empty hallway. Early retirement to the hospital room did not appeal to me. I can do this myself, I reasoned. The sooner I can show these guys what I can do the sooner I can get out of here.
“On your mark, get set, go,” I said to the walls and empty space. I began the slow aching hobble around the hallway circuit. I fought the urge to go as fast as I could, knowing I’d probably end up overdoing it and falling flat on my face. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone yet but I also wasn’t trying to make myself look like a complete moron, either.
It took me a few minutes but I was able to make it all the way around to my room again. Most of my time was spent concentrating on my balance and trying to ignore the pain in my arms, back and legs. That was probably why I hadn’t seen it the first time I went around the loop and even the second time.
By the time I had made it around the second time I was beginning to feel pretty proud of my little accomplishment.
“Well, that’s probably good enough for right now,” I said to myself. “Should I back to my room and lay down?”
I thought about that briefly. It would ease back some of the aches I was feeling everywhere, which was something I could certainly go for. But in the end I decided one more trip around was what I really wanted. I was just getting the hang of moving and didn’t want to drop it. Progress has always been my drug of choice.
“Nah,” I responded to my own inquiry slightly winded, “I want to do it one more time. I’m just starting to get a feel for these babies.” I looked resolutely the direction of the Hospital Grand Prix circuit. “This thing’s not going to walk itself,” I said at last and started to move.
When I came to the end of the first stretch of hallway I paused to catch my breath. While I waited for my wind to return to me I surveyed the environment. The walls kept paintings of soft pastures and sailboats on calm seas. Very calming. But interrupting this landscape was something that hadn’t registered in my mind as I’d made the other two trips.
Red metal strips outlined the glass case embedded into wall. Inside was the fire extinguisher. It hypnotized me nearly the moment it caught my eye. I’d seen thousands of them before, the inconspicuous tenants of restaurants, schools and countless other public buildings. This one, however, held me, drew me in to it. As I stared at it the lights in the hall flickered.
This broke the spell of the thing for which I should “break glass in case of emergency.” I looked up and saw the hallway. The lights flickered again. And I saw one of the paintings, change; I swear it changed between flickers.
One moment it was a pure landscape, a golden field of wheat waving in the wind. Then, when the light blinked out and back for a second I promise that I saw a man standing in the field. Though he was only there for the briefest of moments I could see clearly that he was dressed in a dirty white shirt with a black vest over it. He also had on black pants which disappeared into the wheat. On his head sat a black bowler hat. His right arm rested against his side. At the end of his fully extended left arm rested a blazing torch.
Though the man stood far back in the painting I saw his face wearing a defiant sneer. He was looking at me, watching me watching him. The lights flickered again. When the darkness was dispelled this time the whole field was on fire. I could almost hear the crackle of it and feel the heat coming off the painting in waves.
Again, the lights went out, this time for two or three eternal seconds and when they came back on the painting was back to normal. I heard a sound up ahead of me and turned my head quickly. I thought I saw the leg of someone in dark pants and shoes disappear around the corner. Someone had been standing there watching me and stepped away just as I’d looked.
“Hello?” I waited but there was no response. I tried again. “Eddie, is that you?” Again there was nothing. I moved toward the place where whoever it was had been but this time I abandoned all care and moved as fast as I could. The hallway behind me and ahead darkened completely. I almost crashed into the wall were it not for the light spilling down from the end of the hall where the nurses’ station waited. No one was waiting in the hall and no one was at the station. I was completely alone.
The lights came back to life. I waited there in the middle of the hall for something to happen, so when nothing did I glanced around behind me to make sure no one was back there. I then began my slow and extra careful trek back to the starting point of the walk. As I moved I thought about the painting and the lights and wondered if it was some kind of stress-induced hallucination. Something told me it was not and yet it also told me that something about the hospital itself was preventing me from remembering and that was somehow a good thing, a safe thing.