Awakening

She woke up and stretched. The joints and, in fact, her whole body was stiff and unresponsive to all efforts, as if cast in stone. Her hands ached and — much to her astonishment — her legs were weak and skinny, with almost no muscle, nor fat tissue on them. “That’s weird,” she thought, still lying on the bed, barely conscious of her surroundings. Always in good physical shape and a personal yoga trainer still in her late 60s, she thought it at least a bit surprising to find herself in bed in the middle of the day.

A sudden commotion made her look around: somebody was running out of the room, loudly calling for help in what seemed like French. It was a big, chunky woman in a white coat, with heavy white shoes on her feet, the ones usually worn by nurses in British sitcoms. “Am I in a hospital?” she thought to herself, realising that the last thing she remembered was taking out Bark, her Yorkshire terrier, for a walk in the park in Greenwich where she lived all her life. The name was only fitting because barking was her dog’s favourite activity, especially in parks where grey squirrels refused to become easy pray and where drunken men could not escape quickly enough becoming one. She was carrying a vaccination certificate with her at all times as proof that her pet was free of rabies, since the men (and only men, for some reason) — once caught and barked at frantically —usually ended up also with torn clothes or marks of the little canine teeth. She also got used to bringing along small flasks of booze, the ones that you sometimes get in hotel minibars or on planes, as a form of apology she would offer the victims who were sober enough to complain.

She looked around, but nothing looked familiar. A simple table and a plastic chair next to the window, a TV set that remembered better days and a small wardrobe with one door left open, probably by the woman who rushed out of the room a minute ago. It was around noon on a warm spring or early summer’s day, because the sun was shining bright and strong through the window glass, making the blanket warm where the rays of pure gold touched it. She heard birds chirping, but saw none on the tree branches outside. The sound seemed to come from much closer, somewhere to the right of the bed. She turned her head slowly and saw a cage with wires unevenly painted white and a bird excrement-stained newspaper lining the bottom. Two yellow canary birds were sitting on the perch, chirping and turning their heads as if in disbelief. “What the—” she thought to herself since having birds as pets was the last thing she would ever consider. She hated all feathered creatures and was scared of them ever since her father brought a wounded magpie home one day and made his daughter in charge of its care. “Feed the birdy twice a day and give it fresh water to drink every couple of hours so it can get better soon and be released back into the wild”, he said and put his big hand on her shoulder reassuringly. The magpie got out of its make-shift cage upon the first opening of the door, pecked its caregiver just below the eye and jumped out through the window to meet her end in the stomach of the neighbour’s cat the second the self-liberated representative of the esteemed for great wits (but apparently not devoid of recklessness as well) crow family hit the ground, falling from the 3rd floor of the four story building.

“Praise be to God, you are awake!” said a tall, skinny nun entering the room in the company of an elderly gentleman in glasses and a nurse who looked like a younger version of Pamela Anderson. Her tight uniform was far from unrevealing and made her seem out of place, as if the whole thing was a farce or a really bad joke. “You fainted in the park due to high blood sugar levels and for the past 4 years you’ve been in a coma. Your family have almost lost hope that you’ll ever awake, you know, but here you are, n’est pas?” the gentlemen explained, taking her hand to check the pulse on her wrist in an old-school fashion, with the help of his wrist watch. “I’m Pierre Lavant. I am a doctor here and this is sister Deidre from Ireland and nurse Amanda. Amanda a nursing college student from the U.S., on an internship,” he added and smiled, the corner of his mouth suddenly twitching as if with a nervous tic. “We’ve already called your daughter and she’ll catch the first plane from London to visit and see how you are doing”. “To visit? From London?” Barbara whispered, her hands clutching the edges of the blanket, suddenly sweaty. “There, there. How else would you like to see her here, my dear? Our beautiful Sunnyside is your new home”.