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A Breath of Revenge

Name: Roger B. Jones
Email: roger@walkandroll.com
Date: 03 Sep 2000
Time: 17:21:35
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A Breath of Revenge

During the first few weeks in hospital, I hated to be alone. I was really scared and had convinced myself that terrible things were going to happen to me whenever my friends or family left the room. In order to comfort me, my very close friends and my family members made up a visitation schedule. With the exception of the mandatory rest periods, somebody was at my side 24 hours a day. Everybody was really good at arriving at their designated times, except for my brother.

My brother was hopeless. He would arrive two hours outside of his scheduled time, claiming to have been tied up in a meeting or stuck in traffic. It got to be so bad that eventually we just took him off the schedule and made him a floater. I knew that he cared about me; it was just that he was being his normal self.

So I decided to play a trick on him. Keep in mind that I have been close to death on more than one occasion and I still wasn't out of the woods. I was lying in a special bed in intensive care with monitors hooked up everywhere. Because I couldn't get breath on my own, I was also connected to a ventilator machine. The machine would breathe for me, but, as I got stronger I could breathe once for every two breaths the machine would do. If my breathing stopped completely, lights would flash and alarms would sound. The nurses were really busy, and so they would instruct whoever was visiting me to let them know immediately if the alarm went off. What they didn't know was that my breathing was progressing more rapidly than they believed. I had reached the point where I could almost breathe on my own.

The next time my brother came to visit I held my breath until the lights flashed and the alarm went off. As soon the nurse would arrive to check the machine, I would resume breathing. She would review the readings and declare that everything looked fine. When she went back to her station, I would hold my breath again. After three or four times of this, my brother was beginning to panic. I decided that he had been punished enough, so I allowed the machine to return to its normal operation. I didn't have the heart to tell him what I did until 10 years later.

Copyright © 2000 Roger B. Jones. All Rights Reserved.

Also see these other stories by Roger B. Jones:
Thank God I finally discovered an electric leg bag emptier!
My Mis-education
Student Nurses
Helplessness

Last changed: May 19, 2008

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