Exit Signs

The smell of sterility here is making me nauseous. The hours have passed right through me and I've been sitting so long my back is aching. The sharpness of my injury brings all my focus back to this room. My wife,rest her soul, passed away six years ago. She was driving home from visiting her sister in Vermont when a truck side swiped her compact car. The depression that comes with being states away and not being able to be there in the last few minutes of the person you loves life was not easily bearable.In a few failed attempts when I was at my lowest, I drove recklessly through the back service roads hoping that anything would end this frustration and hatred for myself. Six years have gone by and nothing has changed. Her clothes are where she left them. Her toothbrush, although untouched still lay on the same shelf collecting dust. The days have become longer than twenty fours hours now, a day has become a month and my life drags on.
The middle aged woman two seats down is coughing up a lung, she just arrived moments ago. I over hear a nurse tell another that she had been flying in a jumbo passenger jets, passing over the checked farm lands that are the Midwest when she suddenly fell off her seat and started to convulse. They quickly landed the plane at the nearest airport to dispense her into the closest hospital. Here she is, her mucus, pressurized, traveling up her throat until its airborne, floating towards me and other patients.
Just when i thought my life would be starting, retired and finally having the money to travel. All of my plans cut short. i fear the worst is coming. I patiently wait my turn. Hours pass, another eight hours and i can barely stand it.Finally my name is called as a thirty something year old lady comes through the door.I follow her through the double doors, as she asks how i am feeling. "not good"I mutter as I clear my throat. She takes me to another waiting room where I can wait by myself. Finally a semi-cozy chair and silence. A few moments go by and a tall man walks in, perfect posture and staring at a chart. He asks two questions about my prior health, eyes glued to the paper in his sterile hands. He tells me,"I'll be right back" and walks out. I am left waiting again. I decide to lay down on the recliner chair, i fall asleep. I wake up to gripping the sides of the chair.White knuckled, my neck closes up, and as the lady from the plane coughs in the next room, my vision blurs. I can see her sitting on a swing, my wife, she is looking at me with those beautiful blues. A hint of a smile and my world goes black before the rush.