Sitting there.
In that white plastic chair with less than an inch of padding under me.

Waiting.

Waiting for that papery night gown brushing against my sides, that smell of cleaning spray filling my lungs, that grainy texture of hospital food.
Waiting for those cold hands with needles just waiting to hold my insides, those numb tingles that coat every blood cell in your body, those shivers that race up and down your spine.
Waiting for the pain, the fatigue, the throbbing.

I didn’t want these things to come and find me.

I wanted to run.

Run away from all those thoughts. People saying “It’s going to be okay.”

That never helps, it’s almost worse.

Relax, calm down, stop thinking!

My arms writhing in pain.

Lights getting fuzzy and dim. My eyes dusted with dark clouds. And everything goes dark.