No se oye nada. De pronto es idea mía o de pronto sí es algo real. Creo que me estoy quedando sordo.
No me muevo de la cama. Por alguna razón estoy acostado sobre mi lado izquierdo. Jamás duermo de lado sino sobre mi abdomen, mi pecho, o como sea que quieran llamarle. El caso es que no duermo así, entonces es raro. Me quedo quieto, mirando la pared blanca frente a mi.
Mis ojos se abren bastante, por primera vez en el día. No veo nada más sino el muro blanco. No hay ni una mancha, no hay nada allí más que la inmensidad de la pintura blanca. Entonces siento el calor y me quito la sabana de encima. Es entonces que me duele y me doy cuenta de dos cosas: hay algo sobre mi cara y, en efecto, no puedo oír nada.
No me pongo de pie sino que me quedo en la cama, abriendo y cerrando los ojos. Mi mano derecha sube lentamente a mi cara. Me toco el mentón y voy deslizando los dedos por la piel en dirección a mi oído, donde siento la mayor molestia. Debajo del pelo que forma la patilla, siento que la piel está inflamada, muy inflamada. Recuerdo que el día anterior me dolía el oído pero era un dolor que iba y venía, ahora es permanente.
Está muy hinchado y me empieza a doler, como que todo mi cuerpo se da cuenta que estoy de verdad despierto y que el dolor tiene espacio para empezar a sentirse. Me recorre el cuerpo un escalofrío, que incluso me hace doler el pie y me hace sentir muy extraño.
Tomo impulso y me pongo de pie y camino, casi automáticamente, al baño. No es mi casa de siempre, solo me estoy quedando por un tiempo. Pero llego, prendo la luz y trato de mirarme pero es dificil verse los oídos. Me toco de nuevo y me echo agua, pensando que puede que el frío ayude. ¿O será mejor el calor?
No, lo mejor es salir. Media hora después estoy en la sala de espera de un hospital, el único del que sé la existencia en esta ciudad que no es la mía. Me llaman y me hacen esperar aún más en una pequeña sala donde otras personas se quejan o hacen cara de enfermedad. Parece que todos están malos del estómago o algo por el estilo. No es raro en una ciudad de clima cálido, a la que vienen muchos turistas y comen y se meten en cualquier lado sin observar los mínimos niveles de limpieza.
Mientras espero me miro los pies. Siento un poco de mareo o de pronto sea yo mismo que me hago sentir peor. Es raro pero así son las cosas en los hospitales. Son sitios horribles y terribles, llenos de quejidos de niños y caras largas de padres cuyas vacaciones han sido arruinadas pero nada pueden decir o sino sonaría muy cruel.
Tras varios minutos, o tal vez menos o tal vez más, me hace pasar una joven doctora. Se demora más escribiendo en el computador que revisándome como se debe. Prefiero pensar que sabe lo que hace. No hablamos casi, solo me hace unas preguntas básicas y le explico mi dolor y cómo me he sentido en los últimos días. Al parecer no nota nada especial en lo que le cuento porque parece no estar muy interesada. O tal vez sea su cara de "Sí, ya sé de que me habla".
Llena un papel, me dice que pague la consulta y en la farmacia de la esquina compro lo que me recomienda la doctora. Apenas llego al apartamento me tomo las pastillas con agua y me acuesto de nuevo. Siento hambre pero prefiero no comer nada. Me quedo mirando la pared, con mis pensamientos perdidos en la nada.
- "Maldita sea..." - pienso. "¡Que bonito comienzo del año!"
Por un momento olvido el dolor y me doy la vuelta. Mala decisión.
Pensamientos, escritos, cine y más / Thoughts, writings, cinema and more.
Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta hospital. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta hospital. Mostrar todas las entradas
martes, 3 de enero de 2017
Oídos sordos
Etiquetas:
apartamento,
baño,
cama,
cuerpo,
doctor,
dolor,
hinchado,
hospital,
inflamado,
lento,
mano,
movimiento,
oídos,
ojos,
oreja,
percepción,
piel,
sordos,
tacto,
vista
jueves, 27 de octubre de 2016
In a second
When she opened her eyes, she saw directly
into the fire. The flames were in front of her, making her face feel warmer
than she wanted to. As much as she wanted to move or get away, she just
couldn’t move. Her body felt extremely heavy and her head felt really big,
turning like crazy as she closed her eyes again and tried to convince herself
she was not awake but sleeping, deep into one of her very crazy dreams. But she
couldn’t do that either. It was all true. The flames danced in front of her and
she could only look at them, feeling almost burned.
Suddenly, she felt her body being pulled away
from the car, which had being turned upside down. It hurt as the asphalt of the
road caressed her skin and clothes. But she couldn’t complain. She couldn’t say
a word even if she wanted to because of how weak she felt. Also, she was very
dizzy and couldn’t quite understand what was happening. However, she kept her
eyes opened because she just couldn’t close them anymore. The heat of the
flames seemed far now and all she felt was the smell of it all, which was
awful.
Suddenly, the car exploded and several parts
rained all over the place. One of them fell a bit too close to her face but she
didn’t really mind at all. It was as if she was looking at a movie, at something
she wasn’t really involved in. Her eyes were open the whole time and her brain
worked so slowly she never really asked herself who had pulled her away from
wreckage. She was just too shocked to think of anything. After a while, she
felt very tired and decided to close her eyes for a moment. She fell asleep and
only woke up many hours later in an ambulance.
It was for long though. The only thing she saw
was a very big needle and some blurry guy holding it. Or maybe it was a woman…
She had no idea but she did now that a sudden pain invaded her body and then
she was immersed again in the world of slumber. She dreamt about an ice cream
shop she had loved as a child. Her father used to take her there in secret, as
her mother was not very keen on sweets. They would ask for the ice cream and
eat it in under thirty minutes, almost as a challenge to themselves before they
had to head home.
She woke up again many hours later, in a
hospital bed. This time, the moment she opened her eyes, she felt the strongest
headache she had ever felt. It seemed as if it was going to break her head into
two parts. The pain was so awful that she screamed and in seconds two nurses
came rushing in and injected what was probably a sedative on her IV. She calmed
down but the headache was still there. She tried to tell them, tried to explain
to them how much it hurt. But no words came out of her mouth. She couldn’t
speak a word.
When she woke up again, it was a very bright
day outside. The light rushed into her room and she felt kind of happy to see
the light after so much time spent in her dreams. However, her mind was still
working slow, as well as her body. She was thankful because the headache had
disappeared and she could at least look at the window without feeling a huge pain
in her head. She looked on for a long time, so long in fact that the rays of
sunlight changed angles as she stared at the world outside of which she
couldn’t see very much.
Outside, the sky was very blue and just a
couple of thin clouds floated high above everything. Aside from that, she could
only see some building, all made of bricks. She had no idea where she was or
how but she was sure it was a safe place. Although, she did wanted to go back
home as soon as possible. So much so, that she tried to get out of bed to have
a better view of the window in order to know where in the city she was and if
she could maybe walk home. She knew there was a hospital near her house, so
maybe that was it.
But when she attempted to move her legs, they
didn’t respond. She attributed it to how slow her mind was running, so she
decided to take a deep breath and then try again. But again, nothing happened.
She looked at her legs and slowly touched them as much as she could. Her arms
were not very long and they felt extremely weak, but she reached down as she
could in order to verify what was going on. In that precise moment, a nurse
entered the room and saw her. She then rushed back out, yelling someone’s name.
The woman stopped trying to touch her legs and
rested her body against the pillows. She felt exhausted and tried to think
about what just happened: she couldn’t feel her legs. She couldn’t move them at
all. Why wasn’t she reacting more violently to this revelation? Why didn’t she
felt compelled to yell or cry or whatever? Her head felt like a balloon, filled
with air that didn’t let her think of anything. She pulled her head back and
closed her eyes, trying to get back to her last memory before the hospital. But
that seemed to be almost impossible.
The door opened again and this time it was a
man dressed in those mint green uniforms that people often used in hospitals.
She looked at him quietly, as he checked the machines around him. A nurse was
behind him, taking notes. He then checked his patient by looking at her eyes
and then checking her ears and skin. He asked for her to pull out her tongue
but she didn’t seem to hear or understand what he had said. He tried again but
she didn’t do anything.
Then, he pulled out a very small bottle from
his pocket, along with a syringe. He filled it with the liquid in the bottle
and injected it directly into her arm. At first, she didn’t feel a thing. But
then, it seemed as if whatever that liquid was, it worked as a way to shake
people up in the most violent way possible. She suddenly felt pain and many
thought rushed into her head. Everything seemed to be happening so fast. Sounds
were loud, maybe too loud and the sunlight felt too bright. She covered her
face and cried, trying to control what she was feeling.
After a while, the pain and awkward feelings
went away and she knew exactly where she was and what had happened. She was
finally aware of everything and not in some sort of trance. Whatever the doctor
had put in her bloodstream, it eliminated all the effects from the other shot
she had received. She was no longer a peaceful lamb that couldn’t even think
for herself. She was her again, with every single memory and pain possible. But
she couldn’t remember why she was there. As much as she tried to remember, it
seemed hidden somehow.
The doctor asked her if she knew her name. The
woman said it out loud, hearing her own voice for the first time in a while.
Then, he asked if she could remember the reason why she was there. She
indicated that she couldn’t and asked him to tell her because she was going mad
trying to remember, trying to go back to at least a sound or an image or
whatever that could help her remember. The doctor said she had been in a car
crash, having been expelled out of the car by the force of the impact. That’s
why she had some cuts all over.
When he said it, she looked at her arms and realized
that was true: she had small cuts on her skin. And suddenly she remembered the
flames and someone pulling her away from them. She told this to the doctor and
he asked her if she knew who had done that. She replied that she couldn’t
remember a face but that it had probably been her husband. But then the doctor
looked at the ground and got closer. He explained his patient that it was not
possible that her husband had done it because he had died instantly in the
crash.
The news hit her hard. She started crying and
was held by the doctor for a moment. When they separated, she looked at her
legs and realized what had happened. She looked at the doctor and he nodded,
words being useless at that point. She cried in silence and the doctor left
with the nurse. It was a lot to take for her and she was going to need all the
time in the world to adjust to the fact that, in a single second, her whole
life had been turned upside down, almost destroying her in the process.
sábado, 6 de agosto de 2016
The ninja
The city below was pretty much silent. It
was very dark and lonely and the sun wasn’t going to rise for another four
hours. People would be starting their day in some time but in those moments
they were sleeping, barely imagining what was happening on their rooftops.
A group of three people were chasing another
one that had a very big lead in their chase. The character they were chasing
was wearing a ninja outfit, all the uniform being black and his eyes being the
only thing the people that were chasing him could distinguish from the darkness
of the night.
As they jumped from one roof to the other, one
of the persecutors slipped on the edge of the building and fell backwards,
being caught in the last second by one of his peers. The woman that had gotten
hold of his ankle, could barely cope with the weight of her companion. The
other man that came with them, the one closest to the ninja, stopped short from
jumping to the next building and went back to his companions to help the woman
lift their buddy to the rooftop.
The ninja stopped running when he didn’t hear
the sound of steps following him anymore. He turned around and looked on, as
the man and the woman pulled their friend towards them, saving their life. The
ninja blinked several times, very confused. He started to sweat right then, and
not before when he was running.
The man that had almost fallen realized the
ninja was looking at them and attempted to stand up and chase him again but as
he tried standing up, he felt terrible pain in his ankle, the one that his
companion had grabbed him by. Apparently, in all that chaos, he had hurt
himself so bad that he couldn’t walk by himself. His two friends helped him up
again and, when he tried to locate the ninja again, he didn’t saw anyone
anywhere.
Hours later, the persecutors were in a
hospital. The one in the bed, named Kevin, was asleep and the other two, Martha
and Philip, were also asleep but in two armchairs in front of the bed. It was
the middle of the day, a warm day outside. As they slept, the ninja appeared
out of nowhere, standing in a corner, and just looking at the three of them. He
walked, making no noise, towards Kevin in the bed.
He looked at his leg, which was in a cast and
elevated to avoid pain. The ninja looked at it, with the clear intention of
doing something, but he didn’t. The movement of his hands, the sweat drops on
his forehead, were telling of how nervous he was to be there. Outside, a door
was slammed just as he had been looking at Kevin very closely. When the patient
opened his eyes, the doctor was there. He had dreamt again about the ninja.
Many days afterwards, Kevin was recuperating
in his house. He had flowers all over the place and had visitors almost every
day. He had never felt so popular in the agency and had to make an effort not
to look to annoyed by the amount of people coming and going from his home. He
knew they all did it out of concern for him but he also knew they came because
they wanted to know more about the mysterious ninja figure he almost died because.
Everyone wanted to know what he had seen about
him. The truth was that Kevin had consciously tried to stop recalling those
moments because when he fell asleep, he would always relive the moment he fell
and it wasn’t something very fun to experience. It felt as if the floor was
suddenly removed from beneath his feet and he didn’t thought that was something
great to tell anyone.
But people knew how adamant he had been before
the mission to catch the ninja. After all, he had attacked them before, as they
tried to infiltrate a chemical plant, several months ago. As security agents,
they were tasked with a lot of different mission in order to preserve the order
in the world and in the country. The man and women of that agency were just the
best of the best, always being very good at handling themselves and their
opinions in front of people and under pressure.
However, with the ninja, Kevin easily lost his
mind. After he had seen him kill some people in order to steal some classified
documents, Kevin realized the ninja was a persona that had no moral compass and
that seemed to work for anyone who paid the price he asked for. He was only a
mercenary and those people were sickening to Kevin as they just sold themselves
for whatever they asked in order to be able to kill for sport.
When they met the first time, Kevin fought the
ninja for a long time before they had to declare the fight a draw and just run
out of the chemical plant before it blew to the sky. From that moment on, Kevin
tried to investigate whatever he could about the ninja but he was very
unsuccessful. In other encounters, and there were not many, he tried to get
some DNA to use a sample for testing but the ninja did not spit and it was very
hard to grab his head.
He even scouted the places of their fights in
order to pick up anything he might be able to do but there was nothing or, at
least, nothing important enough to pinpoint any particularities about this
person. The worst thing was that Kevin had realized some of the moves the ninja
used were the ones they learned at the academy.
He talked with one of the trainers there who
assured him that no one outside the agency knew about many of those moves as
they were created specifically for some exact situations and in order to use
maximum force if necessary. That was the first real clue Kevin got. But he
failed to tell his companions before the rooftop mission and, when he told them
in the hospital, they were very mad at him for not revealing something so
important to them.
They decided to launch a full investigation
and they had to check every single agent that had deserted the agency. They
even did some surveillance work on some of them, discovering how boring
people’s lives were when they wanted to be far away from all the chaos of the agency.
But none of those guys, none of that people had any similarities or set of
skills that resembled the ones of the ninja.
Frustrated, Kevin returned to proper work
after being a full week in the hospital. He had to use a crutch to walk but the
pain was much less intense than before. He was assigned some office work in the
agency and tried to forget all about the ninja killer. After much thought, it
was obvious that person didn’t wanted to be caught and, he had been an agent,
he wasn’t going to be so stupid as to leave any single clue around. After all
it was a game of intellects to the end, in order to see who survived and who
did not.
As he thought this in his office, Kevin almost
fell from his chair because he had realized something: when checking past
agents, he had omitted to check on the deceased ones. It was a long shot but he
decided to try to find the ninja there. In order not to be reprimanded by his
superiors, he took copies of the files and took them home with no one knowing.
Each night, he would check some of them and then fall asleep as he read them
all.
Almost a month after the incident in the
rooftop, the ninja appeared in his room as he slept. He came closely to the
desk and grabbed his file: it had been there all along but Kevin had not wanted
to look at it. The ninja read it and then looked at the agent. He left the file
back in the desk. As his eyes became watery, he leaned down to kiss Kevin on
the cheek. Caught of guard, Kevin grabbed him by the neck and slammed him to
the floor. With a fast move of the hand, he removed the ninja’s mask.
As in a horror movie, Kevin pulled away from
the dizzy ninja with wide opened eyes. He was seeing a ghost, one he had not
wanted to see. He had a scar on his face and he looked paler than ever. His
eyes looked empty and his body seemed to be fitter than he remembered it. But
it was him. It was really him, his husband, just back from the dead as if
nothing had happened.
miércoles, 6 de julio de 2016
Quemados
Había ventiladores en todas las habitaciones
del hospital y en cada pasillo e intersección de los mismos. En parte era por
el calor pero también, según decía, era para disipar los olores que pudiera
haber en el ambiente. El sitio donde había más aparatos funcionando era el ala
norte, donde estaba la unidad de quemados. Era un lugar que todos los
trabajadores del hospital evitaban a menos que tuvieran algo que hacer allí.
Los deprimía tener que ver las caras y escuchar las voces de aquellos
perjudicados por el fuego.
Pero había gente a la que eso no le importaba.
A Juan, por ejemplo, le gustaba pasarse sus ratos libres leyéndoles a los
enfermos. Eran gente callada, ya que hablar requería a veces mucho esfuerzo.
Incluso quienes estaban curando por completo y todavía estaban allí, preferían
quedarse a ser pasados a otra habitación o a salir del hospital. Al menos allí
se sentían como seres humanos y todo era por el trabajo que hacían Juan y
algunos médicos.
Les había leído algunas de las obras de
Shakespeare y también cuento infantiles y libros de ciencia. Incluso a veces
traía su libreta electrónica y les leía noticias o cualquier cosa que
quisieran. Ellos no tenían permiso para tener ningún aparato electrónico
mientras estuvieran en el hospital, así que a muchos les venía bien cuando Juan
tenía algún rato libre y les venía a leer, sin hacer preguntas incomodas ni
revisiones trabajosas. Eso lo dejaban para otros momentos.
Juan lo hacía porque le gustaba pero también
porque, desde que había presenciado él mismo un incendio, había quedado algo
traumatizado con el evento y juró ayudar a cualquier persona que sufriera de
algo tan horrible. Algunos en el pabellón eran niños, otros adultos e incuso
había un par de reclusos. Estaban amarrados a la cama con esposas y siempre
hacían bromas bastante oscuras, que el resto de los pacientes trataban de
ignorar.
Uno de ellos, Reinaldo, se había quemado el
cincuenta por ciento del cuerpo al tratar de prenderle fuego a la bodega de su
primo, al que le había empezado a ir muy bien importando revista de baja
circulación y especializadas. Tuvo la idea de quemarlo todo para que su primo
no pudiera recuperarse jamás y dejara de echarle en cara su éxito.
Pero no calculó bien y se asustó en un
momento, en el que se echó algo de gasolina encima y ni cuenta se dio. Cuando
prendió el fuego y empezó a reírse como un maniático, ni se había dado cuenta
que su pierna ya ardía. Pasados unos segundo empezó a gritar del dolor y se
echó al suelo a rodar. Los bomberos que acudieron a apagar el incendio lo
ayudaron y fue durante su recuperación que se supo, por videos de vigilancia,
que él había sido el culpable.
Ahora se la pasaba haciendo chistes horribles
y asustando a los niños. Desafortunadamente, a pesar de pedirlo mil y una
veces, los directivos del hospital no había aprobado pasar a los niños a otra
habitación solo para ellos. No tenía sentido alguno que compartieran espacio
con asesinos y con gente mayor que manejaba todo lo sucedido de una manera muy
diferente.
Los niños, por ejemplo, casi nunca lloraban ni
se quejaban de una manera explicita. Solo cuando estaban siendo revisados de
cerca por los doctores era que confesaban su dolor y su tristeza. Era porque
les daba pena decir como se sentían y también algo de miedo porque estaban
solos, sin sus padres como apoyo todos los días. Lo peor era que un par de
ellos habían sido abandonados por sus padres, que jamás se habían molestado en
volver a para saber que pasaba con sus hijos.
Juan trataba de distraerlos, dándoles libros
para colorear y haciéndoles jugar para que olvidaran donde estaban y porqué
estaban allí. Él sabía que, al final del día, esas distracciones se desvanecían
y la realidad se asentaba de nuevo en las cabezas de los niños. Pero trataba
que su día a día fuera más llevadero para poder superar sus dificultades. Los
niños eran mucho más fáciles de comprender que los adultos, eran muchos más
tranquilos, honestos y, en cierta medida, serios. No había que hacer gran
esfuerzo por convencerlos.
El resto del pabellón de quemados era difícil,
por decir lo menos. Eran amas de casa quemadas por sus maridos o por accidente.
Eran hombres que habían tenido accidentes en sus trabajos y ahora no podían
esperar para volver a su hogar y empezar a trabajar de nuevo. Eran personas que
estaban apuradas, que querían salir de allí lo más pronto posible y no
escuchaban recomendaciones pues creían que su edad les daba mayor autonomía en
lo que no entendían.
Había una mujer incluso que había sido quemada
por su esposo una vez. Él le había acercado la mano a la llama de la cocina
porque había quemado su cena. La quemadura, menos mal, no era grave. Pero Juan
la atendió y la volvió a ver un mes después, con algo parecido por en la cara.
Ya a la tercera vez fue que vino en ambulancia y supo que toda la casita donde
vivía se había quemado.
Y aún así, a la mujer
le urgía correr hacia su marido, quería saber como estaba y si su casa estaba
funcionando bien sin ella. No escuchaba a los doctores ni a nadie que le dijera
cosas diferentes de lo que quería oír. Juan pensaba que era casi seguro que
volviera de nuevo si era dada de alta y tal vez incluso directamente al sótano
del hospital.
Cuando no lo soportaba más, se iba a los
jardines del hospital y se echaba en el pasto. Se le subían algunos insectos y
el sol lo golpeaba en la cara con fuerza, pero prefería eso a tener que
soportar más tantas cosas. Era difícil tener que manejar tantas personalidades,
sobre todo de aquellos que se rehusaban a entender lo que les pasaba y querían
seguir haciendo con su vida exactamente lo mismo que antes.
Incluso los niños lo cansaban después de un
rato. Cuando ya había mucha confianza, algunos empezaban a hablarle como si
fuera su padre o algo parecido y eso no le gustaba nada. Tenía que cortarlos
con palabras duras y se sentía fatal al hacerlo pero un hospital no era un
centro de rehabilitación para el alma sino para el cuerpo. No se las podía
pasar de psicólogo por todos lados, tratando de salvar a la gente de si misma.
Ya tenía su vida para tener que manejar las de los demás.
Cuando alguien, otro miembro del personal, lo
encontraba en el jardín, sabían que el día había sido difícil. La mayoría no le
decía nada pues cada doctor en el mundo tiene su manera de distanciarse de lo
que ve todos los días. Incluso los que tienen consultorios y atienden gente por
cosas rutinarias, deben hacer algo para sacar de su mente tantas cosas malas y
difíciles de procesar. Algunos fuman, otros comen, otros hacen ejercicio, o
gritan o algo hacen para sacar de su cuerpo todo eso que consumen al ser
especialistas de la salud.
Pero Juan siempre volvía al pabellón de
quemados. Era lo suyo, no importaba lo que pasara y trataba siempre de hacer el
mejor trabajo posible. Cuando tenía un par de días libres, los pasaba haciendo
cosas mus distintas, divirtiéndose y tratando de no olvidar que todavía era un
hombre joven y que la vida era muy corta para tener que envejecer mucho más
rápido por culpa de las responsabilidades y demás obligaciones.
Cocinaba, tenía relaciones sexuales, subía a
montañas rusas, hacia senderismo, tomaba fotos,… En fin, tenía más de una
afición para equilibrar su mente y no perderse a si mismo en su trabajo. Esos
poquísimos días libres en lo que podía ser él mismo o, al menos, otra versión
de Juan, eran muy divertidos y siempre los aprovechaba al máximo.
Pero cuando volvía al hospital lo hacía con
ganas renovadas pues creía que podía hacer alguna diferencia y no se cansaba de
intentarlo. De pronto la mujer no volvería más si le hablaba con franqueza, de
pronto el pirómano se calmaría con sus palabras y tal vez los niños no
resentirían al mundo por lo que les había pasado. Juan se esforzaba todos los
días por dejar una marca, la que fuera. Esa era su meta.
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