Once upon an average length of time ago in a fairly cold and snow filled land surviving on welfare, I fell into a coma. I was having a dream of being in my obachan's kitchen. Several members of my family were sitting around the wood table and encouraging me to join them for dinner, which was a steamy vegetable soup that looked very yummy, but I refused to eat any of it based on the principle that if I ate anything, I would die. My uncle offered me some orange juice, and it was the most delicious and quenching orange juice I had ever tasted. I felt extremely thankful to him for coaxing me to have something to drink, but right as I took a sip from the glass, the light in the room in which I was resting turned on. The most I ever gained conscious was from the dream. Everything else was just a paralysis of numb darkness and awareness.

My former significant other had come home from his school. He turned on the lights to discover my unclothed and unconscious body. Unable to awaken me and with the thought that just a year prior, a friend had overdosed on heroin under the same roof, combined with the lack of wanting to explain another dead body to the police, again, my body was wrapped in a large blanket and shuffled into the backseat of a car and... driven to a nearby hospital. According to the doctors, I was two (2) hours away from dying before being brought to the Emergency Room. I awoke for a short time with one of those distressing whimpers of an emaciated body unable to speak or move aside from awkwardly squirming while unfortunately passing all over the stiff, white bedding.

At three or four in the morning, I woke up. I opened my eyes to see my significant other right beside me. He was holding my hand or something of the sort -- at least, he was saying my name, and his eyes appeared red with tears. Seeing him made me happy, but he left a little after I was declared awake and cleared for being wheeled into a different wing of the hospital.

I have auditory memories of being hauled down stairs and shuffled into the car and threatened and prodded by the nurses as they attempted to make me respond to outside stimuli. I remember everyone seemed to sound very angry with my immobility and lack of responses. (I was dying, though, so maybe they were just concerned.) I also have a memory of the nurses asking for my identification in attempts to contact my family, but no one knew what my last name was.

Thankfully, a Charity Organization eventually provided for my stay, as did some poor young chap dying over a year before the incident.