With One Eye

They pull out the stretcher. They push me into the hospital. Automatic doors open.

I’m strapped so tight that my head lies turned to the right. I can see with one eye only. With that one eye I watch the world.

We go down corridors. They park me like a piece of furniture. I see a wall. That’s all.

I hear my father’s and mother’s voices.

“We’re here, Grzesiu.”

My parents are a voice, not a face. I know they’re standing right there. I can’t look at them.

“Do you have his ID card? We need to take his details.”

They don’t. The ID is in the inside pocket of my jacket. I have it.

And I think: maybe this will work. Without a document the hospital won’t be able to admit me. Maybe I’ll still go home.

The whole hope of this night resting on a formality only I know about.

I hear my parents give my details. From memory. Two sentences. Hope annulled by people who know my ID number better than I do.

The stretcher moves. I’m wheeled into some office. I spend a moment there alone. Then a man comes in. No white coat. Dressed normally.

He questions me. What’s my name. How old am I. What happened. Did I take anything. Am I on any medication.

I cooperate. I answer every question. I’ve grown bored of this adventure. I decide I’d like to go home after all. So I try very hard. I speak clearly. I know all the answers. I don’t struggle.

That’s the second escape strategy, after the ID in the pocket. Politeness. If I’m correct enough, they’ll open the door. The man with the prophecy needed no strategy. The man who wants to go home already has two and both are useless.

The man without the coat leaves. I’m alone in the office. Maybe they’ll let me go, since I’ve calmed down.

The door opens. They wheel me on somewhere.

With that one eye I see my parents. My wife. They pass through the frame and vanish. We begin a journey through corridors. At some point we go outside the hospital. We cross a stretch of small streets. We enter another building.

Here there’s a grille. We stand for a moment until someone comes and opens it. We go on. Right. Then left. Then right again. I memorize the turns, because that’s all there is to memorize. A door opens.

I’m wheeled into a place where there are some people and beds. Blue and white bedding. People in blue gowns lying on those beds.