Hospital 

I was half-asleep when the dizziness hit. Fits of bodily anxiety wrenched me 
from sleep. I tossed and turned, searching for an explanation. It felt like 
something inside of me was trying to escape my body. I decided to get up from 
bed and go to the bathroom, where I could get some water and pull myself 
together. As I left my dorm room, my nerves cringed and shuddered like a bad VHS 
tape. I walked slowly, keeping close to the wall. The Exit sign at the end of 
the hall swayed back and forth. Pools of exhaustion gathered around me, 
smothering my thoughts. I lost consciousness with each step. Pixelated shades of 
grey washed over my vision. My limbs became heavy and unresponsive. I clutched 
at the walls in fear and confusion. The only sensation remaining was one foot 
plodding after another. 

When I woke I was on the floor of my room. I moved my hand carefully across my 
upper body to see if I was still in one piece. I discovered a sticky spot on my 
forehead. There was blood on my fingers. I lifted my head and saw that I was 
laying in a pile of loose papers. Blood was smeared on a page where I had come 
to rest. I got up slowly and eased my way to the edge of my bed, where I sat. I 
wanted to ignore the blood running from my head and go back to sleep. I tried to 
recall comforting dreams; fluid landscapes of constant change, tangential 
discourse tied together by movement without repercussion. 

I wanted to ignore the blood coming from my head and go back to sleep. My head 
was still reeling when I stood up and went to the phone by the door. 


Two campus safety officers arrived a few minutes after my call. I was sitting 
outside my room. I gave them a situational report, as they like to call it. I 
had a fainting spell which led to a minor head wound. The officer on the left 
was tall, bald and lanky. The one on the right was boyish-looking but reserved. 

"May we come in?" The shorter officer nodded to my doorway. 

"Yeah, sure" I said. I fumbled for my keys, opened the door and motioned them 
in. The shorter officer pulled a chair from a desk of debris got out pen and a 
pad of paper. "Any alcohol?" 

"No." I responded. 

"Drugs?" 

"No sir," 

"Name?" 

"Ross Kerr." 

He looked down at his pad and then back at me. "Two corresponding sets of 
letters. Also juxtaposed in the alphabet." 

I nodded. 

He began to rummage through a first-aid box from his satchel. "Do you have any 
communicable disease- Am I going to catch anything from you?" 

"Nah." I pulled my hair up to where I thought the cut was. He inspected the 
wound. 

"That's a pretty deep cut..I'm afraid you're going to need some stitches there." 


As soon as the nurse helped me onto the bed, a woman in a pastel hospital 
uniform rolled up with a computer loaded onto a cart, the keyboard and mouse 
positioned ergonomically, just above waist-level. The barrage of questions 
began. 

"Name?", she said, "Date of Birth?" I answered her as best I could. She 
navigated the computer with easy familiarity.
 
"Home phone? Insurance holder?" The queries were directed towards me but she was 
primarily focused on the computer. Flurries of typing and clicking filled in the 
gaps of our conversation. 

"Religious Affiliation or Faith?" That was easy. "None." 

The process lasted a few minutes. Once she was through with her barrage of 
questions, she handed me a pamphlet outlining my right to privacy and she 
wheeled away. A nurse asked me to take off my sweatshirt as well as my shirt so 
she could put the EKGs monitors on. They were cold at first but warmed up with 
my body.

"Looks like you've got a rash there on your stomach and chest" she said. 

"That's just my general pallor." I said. She laughed politely. Briefly after all 
the EKGs were on, a different nurse came in and put a bracelet with my name and 
birth date on it. 

the cool IV entered my wrist 

The hospital operated like a living organism. It had many parts that formed a 
whole. When a part needed assistance, others come to its aid to keep the system 
functioning. There were thousands of individual processes being carried out 
around me. Information was traded by word of mouth, through computer networks, 
slips of paper and electronic beeps. Each individual took part in the motion of 
the organism. Nurses and doctors came and left constantly, forming patterns. By 
entering the organism of the hospital I had agreed to become part of its process 
for a short while, to play by its rules. I wanted to get up from the bed and 
dance to the circulation of people through the building, the hum of the CAT 
machine, the puking man next door and his wife on the phone describing his 
excruciating pain to their friends and relatives. I wanted to flail my arms like 
windmills, sending my EKG monitors and wires flying and knocking over the IV, 
but I restrained myself because hospitals do not appreciate that kind of 
behavior. 

I've got a nice one-inch long gash on the right side of my head, above the 
hairline. "How did you get this?" 

"I got dizzy. I woke up on the floor in my room at about 5:20" I said. She 
looked at me worriedly. The recognition in her dark brown eyes caught me 
off-guard. I looked away. 

"My daughter is your age. She goes to Pennsylvania University." She took three 
snips of my hair and then cleaned the wound. 

"This is going to hurt a little." she said. 

When the needle entered my head it sent spines of pain out from the point. I 
felt blood run down the side of my head to my neck where it trickled to the bed. 

"I told her she should have gone to Maryland but she didn't listen. It's a 
wonderful school." I nodded and tried not to wince as she started to sew. Her 
needlework was sharp but precise; the operation was done after a few short tugs. 
It didn't seem wise to mention the need for distance her daughter might feel 
while she was tending to me so patiently. After finishing up all four stitches 
she said that her shift was ending and the next doctor would be in soon.