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Tue 15 Mar, 2005 12:24 pm
"This place is full of static electricity.There must be quite enough magnetic field, because my head is throbbing.Also, I feel like throwing up", I said to myself.
It was the same feeling I went through years ago, when I was exposed to the MRI."You know the story, and it's a secret between us as we agreed", I said to Reem.
"What are all these people doing downstairs?!.I can go to see, but often I won't be back.These people aren't fine, and they aren't angels.I know this, and I'm feeling it".I said.
8) You are an intruder:
And why was the house number five exactly?!
A silly question, without any meaning ofcourse.If the house was holding the number six or seven, it would have the same strangeness."The question must be what's going on here ?!", I said.
I heard knocking on my door in the middle of the night.I heard Sandra saying politely:
-" Dr.Refa'at, are you a sleep?"
-"How could I ?!"
-"Then, I'm waiting for you.We need you in the lounge for an important matter"
I am extremely confused. I can't say whether it's good or not, because I am too confused as to what is going on in it.
The patient twitched beneath unwrinkled bedsheets. A dim green line pulsed its way unnoticed beside the bed. Outside the white curtains a crisp nurse walked on thick crepe soles doing the last rounds of her shift. None of the late afternoon traffic from the streets outside the building penetrated here. All was silence, punctuated by whispers and an occasional low moan. It might have been a.m., or p.m. and the patients would never know.
It was five minutes, at the most, before the nurse returned to her station. Her eyes flicked from monitor to monitor. At first glance it looked as if there had been no change. One line had ceased pulsing, but no alarm had sounded. The nurse tapped the monitor in annoyance. Nothing changed. Duty required that she go to personally check the patient and determine why the monitor had stopped showing the feeble line of life, but she had already worked for a hectic 14 hours.
With a sigh, she got up and returned down the corridor to the patient's gloomily little alcove. Inside the monitor also was a steady unwavering line. She stood the patient's boney wrist between her fingers, but there was no pulse there either. "It was probably a good death". She pulled the sheet up over the patient's face and went home to a glass of red wine and her own wrinkled sheets.
Hi, I like that Asherman, brilliant.I bet that you are saying now ," this is the worst thing I've ever read ".
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