A sudden inexplicable discomfort,
The blades of the ceiling fan pretty clear,
Amongst all the haziness,
And just a few minutes lapse
Before a sense of familiarity
Of the corridor walls and doors.
The discomfort must increase,
For a tightness lurks in,
And just a few minutes lapse
Before a sense of motion
Of vehicles and cacophony of horns.
But no blades of the ceiling fan
Just to be seen a while back.
And then a way to the unfamiliar
The unfamiliar labyrinth,
Throng of unfamiliar faces, desks, labels and instructions on walls,
The discomfort doubles with pokes and pinches,
But no blades of the ceiling fan
Just to be seen a while back.
The ceiling is a set sequence of milky white squares with tiny holes,
And not the familiar off white,
With blades of the ceiling fan
Just to be seen a while back
Each square cruising past in a frenzy, while the gaze slows down.
The unfamiliarity adds to the discomfort and tightness
And a sudden halt.
A wave akin to a good bye,
From someone familiar.
Kindness and care around, while some unfamiliar apparatus are fixated.
And more unbeknownst events, while I rest in sleep.
I guess comfort starts setting in.
On the way to the ICU.
The Familiar
Things getting back to normal when you're back to your a general room with your phone