Thoughts from a Coma Survivor:
I heard someone say that I am in a coma.
It doesn't feel real.
The noise here is unlike anything I have ever known.
There seems to be activity all around me,
but I cannot move, cannot open my eyes.
There are bits and pieces of memory. Fragments.
Fragments of thoughts, and sound, and sensation.
I just woke up again, but still can't move,
or let anyone know that I can hear.
My body won't move and my eyes still won't open.
For some reason I cannot stay awake.... if this is awake.
I am drifting as though on an ocean.
I drift within sight of shore but can't reach the shore,
or make myself heard. No one sees that I am here.
The tides carry me away again
and blackness envelopes me, and I feel nothing.
When you come to see me please talk to me.
Please tell me something familiar.
I need something familiar to hold on to.
I need your touch and contact with you,
even if I can't respond.
I need a connection with sounds, talk,
and voices that are familiar to me. –Stephanie.