This is my moment of awakening in the sterile white world of the recovery room. The harsh and brilliant lights bounce back at me. I squint and feel much like I am trying to look through a dirty car windshield as wipers mix sprinkles of rain with dust and grime, turning to streaks and blurs. I try to lift my heavy head. The effort overcomes my physical capabilities as my lids close to shut out the assault of brilliant white light which refracts in sharp bits and pieces. AHH, this is soft sweetness, to slip back into the black void where nothingness envelopes me and wraps soothing salve on the pain in my body, balmy calm on the confusion in my mind. I gently float into a deep dark ocean with the wish, "just let me stay here, forever protected from the hurts and ills of life."

A harsh voice from nowhere?...somewhere?...everywhere!...speaks my name, while the tightly clutched corner of sheet is pulled from my hand. The voice in the tunnel again speaks my name in a question, coaxing me back to reality. Eyes squinted closed, I hear the word, "Christy?" and feel a demanding hand on my shoulder. I feel confused, defensive as the hand shaking my body urges, "Open your eyes now. Christy? Christy?

"NO.     GO AWAY.     LEAVE ME ALONE,"     I scream in the confines of my own mind as my lids lift of their own volition, unwilling participants responding to the voice of authority. Her dilated blue eyes..my eyes...squint against the ambiance of whiteness ...and her head...no... my head turns to the left trying to focus on the fuzzy form of a white being blended into an alabaster background. I feel like I've stumbled into the worst of an Alaskan snow storm. It is SO cold... I am cold. The white sentinel, the nurse, demands I return to her in in this arctic nowhere to begin my journey through the pain and suffering of healing; healing from the invasive procedures recently performed in the operating room.

I am helpless, frightened and vulnerable as a newborn baby. My thick tongue inside my dry mouth will not allow enunciation so I might say, "STOP IT...GO AWAY...Let me close my eyes and drift back into the anesthetized world of vivid color and enveloping warmth.

Bending my knee, trying to scoot higher in bed, I am assaulted by a searing pain and I collapse back into a bundle of white blankets. Exhausted by the effort I look up to see my husband's handsome face float into view and, for the first time since opening my eyes, I feel a desire, a need to come back to the world where he awaits. There is love on his face, concern in his eyes and I sense the compassion in his heart flood into my soul.

"Where am I?" I ask in a hoarse whisper.

"In the recovery room. As soon as they make sure you are going to be OK, they will take you to your room."

My mind is "coming to" computing, reasoning and bringing me out of the netherworld of drug induced stupor. Yes. My room is one step closer to hospital exit doors. Pain will be my constant companion for days to come, but I will wake up. I will get better. I will go home SOON.

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