{"id":75,"date":"2019-04-09T00:21:14","date_gmt":"2019-04-09T00:21:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/english.illinoisstate.edu\/euphemism\/14-2\/?page_id=75"},"modified":"2019-04-11T15:08:34","modified_gmt":"2019-04-11T15:08:34","slug":"the-place-in-between","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-2\/the-place-in-between\/","title":{"rendered":"the place in-between"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Megan Donnan<\/h4>\n

Right middle finger to thumb, tapping. A nervous\u00a0<\/span>tick\u00a0tick\u00a0tick<\/span><\/i>.<\/span><\/i>\u00a0Mindless, unconscious, and uncontrollable, something\u00a0<\/span>I do in times of distress<\/span>. Tick\u00a0tick<\/span><\/i>\u00a0tick<\/span><\/i>.\u00a0<\/span><\/i>\u201c<\/span>Y<\/span>ou have to decide.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/i>What do you think?<\/span>\u201d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>Tick\u00a0tick\u00a0tick<\/span><\/i>\u00a0fuck this. Fuck that question. I am not making this decision. The hospital administrators told my siblings not to include me in the conversation.\u00a0<\/span>They were just some human resources staff,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>only\u00a0<\/span>in the room to cover their asses. I was too young to be a part of this, but I wasn\u2019t t<\/span>oo young to watch my mother die.\u00a0<\/span>\u201c<\/span>A<\/span>re you even listening?<\/span>\u201d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/i>I can\u2019t think about the body down t<\/span>he hall, tubes and wires invading<\/span>\u00a0every crevice, strangling my eyes every time I walk in.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2026brain dead\u00a0<\/span><\/i>someone says, probably<\/span>\u00a0trying to be calm and\u00a0<\/span>logical, attempting<\/span>\u00a0to justify the absurd.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2026<\/span>she\u2019<\/span><\/i>s not there anymore<\/span><\/i>,<\/span><\/i>\u00a0<\/span><\/i>I think someone has their<\/span>\u00a0hand on my leg<\/span>\u00a0when they<\/span>\u00a0says\u00a0this<\/span>,<\/span>\u00a0but I\u2019m not sure.\u00a0<\/span>I want to stab a pen into my thigh<\/span>\u00a0to make sure I\u2019m not paralyzed.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>He\u00a0<\/span>doesn\u2019t say anything. I imagine he is picturing her on the bathroom floor, his fists pounding into her chest to will her heart to beat again.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2026<\/span>I\u2019m so sorry\u00a0<\/span><\/i>someone else<\/span>\u00a0weeps silently<\/span>,<\/span>\u00a0starring, not sure how to comfort me<\/span>.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

They knew I understood the implications of this. They were all adults with families of their own, I was the only one at home, the only one who completely relied on her.\u00a0<\/span>I didn\u2019t know how to exist in a world that she was not a part of. I couldn\u2019t even picture what that would look like.\u00a0<\/span>Dad was a blurry figure in the background of our\u00a0<\/span>family photo, still visible, but<\/span>\u00a0just an\u00a0after thought.\u00a0<\/span>My life would be uprooted to move in with a stranger<\/span>\u00a0who had left us when I was three.\u00a0<\/span>H<\/span>e cried when he saw her in the hospital\u00a0<\/span>bed, but still went home to his wife.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

My saliva turns to cement in my mouth, clamping my jaw shut, restricting my throat.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I don\u2019t remember<\/span>\u00a0how I answered<\/span>, but soon I\u2019m signing a paper to k<\/span>ill my mother.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Wait, no,<\/span>\u00a0she is<\/span>\u00a0already dead. It\u2019s hard to keep this straight.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

We\u00a0<\/span>plan to turn off life support<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>on<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>Wednesday<\/span>\u00a0at 1:00pm<\/span>.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I wond<\/span>er if we will send out invites.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Is that something you do\u00a0<\/span>when you plan<\/span>\u00a0the time that<\/span>\u00a0someone will die?\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0***<\/span><\/p>\n

I can\u2019t sit in this hospital anymore. The stale lights are making my eyes burn and the ammonia\u00a0<\/span>from the cleaning supplies\u00a0<\/span>assaults my nostrils every time I inhale. She\u2019s still breathing, but it\u2019s mechanical and evenly timed. I count the breaths, wondering how many it would take to reverse the damage.\u00a0<\/span>One-two-three, wake up, four-five-six, wake up.\u00a0<\/span><\/i>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

When a patient is in a co<\/span>ma and immobile for long periods of time, pressure bands are placed on the arms and legs to keep blood flowing. Without this device, limbs will atrophy<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>and become unusable.\u00a0<\/span>All I can do is sit and stare at her face, puffy and distorted, a surreal version of\u00a0<\/span>the person I knew. My mind wastes like her body as I gaze at the\u00a0<\/span>hollow<\/span>\u00a0vessel in the bed. It is easier to deal with this if\u00a0<\/span>she is just an empty container.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I<\/span>\u00a0grasp the swollen hands in<\/span>\u00a0the bed and\u00a0<\/span>try\u00a0<\/span>to\u00a0<\/span>squeeze my life into her body. She deserves it more.\u00a0<\/span>I\u2019ll be back tomorrow, but I\u00a0have to\u00a0leave now.\u00a0<\/span><\/i>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

***<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I was a runner once. I ran\u00a0everyday, maybe for exercise, or maybe it was cathartic. Why would anyone put their b<\/span>ody through that to feel better?<\/span>\u00a0I\u00a0<\/span>left the hospital so\u00a0<\/span>I could participate in a race\u2014w<\/span>hat a fucking joke. It was a European-style cross-country run where I would travel through streams, jump over hay bales, and bound up\u00a0<\/span>steep\u00a0<\/span>hills.\u00a0<\/span>I haven\u2019t been able to feel any<\/span>thing lately, so maybe this strain is a<\/span>\u00a0good thing.\u00a0<\/span>At the starting line I consider piercing my spikes into my calf<\/span>, six even holes to drain my b<\/span>ody<\/span>.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The gun goes off and I strike my feet into the ground, rhythmically\u00a0<\/span>tapping my fingers as I move towards<\/span>\u00a0the first stream.<\/span>\u00a0Tick\u00a0tick\u00a0tick<\/span><\/i>.<\/span><\/i>\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I<\/span>f I twist my ankle and fall into the\u00a0<\/span>water,<\/span>\u00a0I can let the mud fill my mouth. My<\/span>\u00a0eyes will<\/span>\u00a0go opaque and blind<\/span>, and my tongue will turn to ash<\/span>, falling out of my head into the murky liquid.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>Every w<\/span>ord I want to say dripping from bloodied lips into a vacuum with no audience.\u00a0<\/span>I want the dirt to engulf the empty pit in<\/span>\u00a0my stomach. I want to share the space that you<\/span>r body<\/span>\u00a0will soon inhabit.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/i>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I grab the rope and pull my b<\/span>ody over onto the bank, slugging<\/span>\u00a0forward. I don\u2019t have time to disappear now, so I keep running. The weight of my water-soaked shoes and shorts make my legs tense and rigid, but<\/span>\u00a0I\u2019m too far from the start to stop now.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The rest of the race is a blur. I think I fell down a few times because there is blood on my hands; I have your blood on my hands too. After I cross the finish line, I\u00a0<\/span>take a lap<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>to cool down, rubbing the blood into my eyes so I don\u2019t forget the feeling.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/i>This<\/span><\/i>\u00a0is a sign. I deserved this. Not appreciating what I had, being a bitch sometimes,<\/span><\/i>\u00a0not seeing that you were sick,<\/span><\/i>\u00a0being an\u00a0<\/span><\/i>ungrateful, good for nothing\u2026<\/span><\/i>\u00a0I should stretch too. D<\/span>on\u2019t want to pull a muscle.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The race was a brief interruption, a moment to forget, but I\u00a0<\/span>still\u00a0<\/span>had to go back to the hospital<\/span>\u00a0tomorrow<\/span>. Dad drove me<\/span>\u00a0home<\/span>. It was the first race he had been to all year. He said he wanted to support me during this difficult time. On the way home, I was silent, trying to forget my body and where I was and what was happening. He said if anything good could come out of this, our r<\/span>elationship w<\/span>ould\u00a0<\/span>finally get stronger\u2014as if she was the one preventing that.\u00a0<\/span>Tick\u00a0tick\u00a0tick\u00a0<\/span><\/i>Silent tears stream down my face, but I refuse to look at him. I\u00a0<\/span>will not<\/span>\u00a0give him the satisfaction of feeling like the hero.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The house was filled to the bri<\/span>m with people<\/span>\u00a0waiting to find out how the race went, but I pushed past them and went upstairs. Everyone wanted to talk and act like this was normal, but all I wanted to do was disappear. I can\u2019t pretend to be\u00a0okay, or\u00a0put on a brave face because \u201cthat\u2019s what she would have wanted.\u201d\u00a0<\/span>I walk past my room and into hers, crawling into the bed with my shoes still on.\u00a0<\/span>She\u2019s not coming back, so the mess in the bed is irrelevant.\u00a0<\/span>Someone comes to check on me, but I pretend to be asleep to avoid the questions.\u00a0<\/span>Are you okay? Do you need anything? Are you sure?\u00a0 She wouldn\u2019t want you to be like this.\u00a0<\/span><\/i>Under the covers I try to cry, but nothing comes out, my eyes a raw and arid tundra.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/i>I inhale deeply and let the fabric fill my lungs to absorb\u00a0every last\u00a0piece of you. I fall asleep like this, desperately clinging to the thing that cannot last.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>***<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

It was such a quiet\u00a0<\/span>death, annoyingly clich\u00e9. People who weren\u2019t there said, \u201cAt least\u00a0<\/span>she died peacefully, surrounded by her loved ones<\/span>.<\/span>\u201d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/i>What a load of horse shit.\u00a0<\/span>Her death was violent, the nurse who pulled the tube from her throat was violent, the choked gargle that came from somewhere within her body was violent.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>The mechanical brea<\/span>thing stopped<\/span>\u00a0an<\/span>d became\u00a0<\/span>jagged\u2014<\/span>this is a sick\u00a0prank,\u00a0she\u2019s going to wake up<\/span><\/i>\u00a0tick\u00a0tick\u00a0tick<\/span>\u00a0she\u2019s going to wake up she\u2019s going to wake up\u00a0<\/span><\/i>tick\u00a0tick\u00a0<\/span>she\u2019s\u2014<\/span><\/i>until her chest concaved and her jaw went<\/span>\u00a0slack.\u00a0<\/span>No one\u00a0<\/span>made<\/span>\u00a0a sound\u00a0<\/span>after that, so all that hung in the air was<\/span>\u00a0the monotonous drone of the monitor. The moaning\u00a0<\/span>flat line morns for\u00a0us, but\u00a0offers no comfort.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Megan Donnan Right middle finger to thumb, tapping. A nervous\u00a0tick\u00a0tick\u00a0tick.\u00a0Mindless, unconscious, and uncontrollable, something\u00a0I do in times of distress. Tick\u00a0tick\u00a0tick.\u00a0\u201cYou have to decide.\u00a0What do you think?\u201d\u00a0Tick\u00a0tick\u00a0tick\u00a0fuck this. Fuck that question. I am not making this decision. The hospital administrators told my siblings not to include me in the conversation.\u00a0They were just some human resources staff,\u00a0only\u00a0in […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":31,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-75","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/75","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/31"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=75"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/75\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":251,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/75\/revisions\/251"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/14-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=75"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}