Midnight

Italian

Going outside, I breathe in the cold night air.
Darkness and silence enter my eyes and my ears.
Far into the night, time advances.
My today is yesterday and tomorrow is today...

A point of light passes, wavering in the dark sky.
How far am I from my world?
Will I ever return there?
I circle around, opening my arms.

Here I am, in equilibrium on the edge of life.
It's midnight, and the middle of my time.
I look back, then ahead.
What was yesterday? What will tomorrow be?

The climb

Italian

In front of that wall of brown earth, the off-the-road vehicle stopped.

It arrived there after its wild race on a smooth track with breath taking curves.

Now, though, there was a difficult vertical climb ahead.

The motor rumbled on at the lowest gear, while it was difficult for the stop lights to be seen in the dust clouds which rose up from the rear wheels.

A short jumping sound was the only sign of shifting the gear.

Soon after, the cylinders began to spin with a loud whirl and a powerful growl rose up from the engine.

With a violent leap, movement, rapid and convinced, began again.

The tires clawed at the track of dry earth, while the vehicle inclined dangerously backward until reaching an un-natural nearly vertical slope.

Near the windshield, the muffler was open and a dense black smoke exited from it, while the roar of the motor got louder, continuing on for kilometers.

Hunks of dirt and stones flew away under the wheels as they made rapid half turns, spinning uselessly while trying to grub the road.

The water in the radiator rose until it created steam, and two threatening mustaches of white smoke appeared on top of the front cooling grill.

The first half of the climb was over.

It was not a given, though, that the rest of the climb would be successful.

If possible, the incline increased, and the danger of a destructive backward roll became hellishly serious.

Then, the movement halted. For seconds, the wheels spun in nothingness, and the auto began to tip to one side, beginning a rotation which, if completed, would lead to the inevitable rolling down to the beginning of the long climb.

With a skillful correction of the wheels, however, the straight line upward was recovered.

The tire treads clawed the earth, finding a web of tree roots to desperately hang onto, and the jeep again began to hoist its weight towards the peak, which seemed to be near: a horizon of earth under a clear blue sky.

Just a few meters more of this exhausting climb, with the motor whirling and gasping, with the first wheel finally passing over the top, then the second one right after it.

With a cat-like leap, the vehicle turned half in the air before finding itself horizontal again on a newly flat terrain.

The whirling tires began to slow, but the motor remained active to circulate the cooling, and steam, making a hissing sound, continued to exit from the radiator cap.

The last pieces of rock rolled down the dug up incline, forming puffs of dust...

Done! Irregular rumbling of the lowest gear by now seemed like a muffled laugh, the car's motor enjoying its successful efforts.

It could have seemed impossible. There were instants when everything appeared to be useless.

Courage and persistence, though, won over it all.

A round

Italian

Nice room, although maybe a bit too small.
I put my things away; there aren't very many.
Pulling the table closer, I adjust the light.

My friends say HI when I call them.
Here's dinner... well, ok...
I turn on the TV, but there's not much to see.

It's evening and dark outside.
A few people stop to visit... great.
I am tired and want to sleep.

Morning already! Blood is drawn, medical visits...
Here's the bag... the chemo.
I feel ok... for now.

I'd think of something else, but what?
The infusion flows downward... and so do I.
There's a strand of hair on the pillow.

Closing my eyes, I sleep.
I open them, and was not sleeping.
The chemo has finished.

Dinner, here's the tray.
I'm not hungry; maybe later though.
Now, there is a knot in my stomach.

I look outside, where it's already dark.
My heart beats, and everything is silent.
The machine is slowing down...

I am thin and hairless.
My skin is gray.
Moving exhausts me.

Immobile.
Silent.
I am.

I...

...

Dawn.
Light.
Eyes.

I move a finger.
And close a fist.
Then turn on my side.

It's day outside: there's the sun.
Slowly, I move the sheets.
And stretch my arms and legs. I'm awake.

I'm not hungry, but have to eat...
I try a cookie... then put it down.
My heart beat is accelerating, I can hear it.

Pushing, I sit up.
Using my arms to support me.
My head is a heavy weight.

My legs are thin, and I stare at them.
I'm still here.
I fight and won't give up.

I never imagined having so much strength, and I admit that.
I well remember my condition.
But now it has passed.

They've returned for a visit... great.
Dinner? Well, not yet.
I turn on the TV... then turn it off.

Night time, and I sleep.
I fall, precipitating... but it was a dream.
Awake again... it's dawn.

Today I can do it!
I arise and drag myself to the mirror.
I barely recognize myself.

They pass by with some tea; perhaps I can hold it down. I try.
Taking the telephone, I say hello to friends.
Here I am again world, still here.

Lunch today... yes.
I raise the bed until I am seated upright.
I breathe deeply.

It's not finished, no it's not.
One step has been taken.
Now for another!

The elevator

Italian

With a loud thump the large duffle bag struck the pavement.

The young woman dragging it was studying the buttons on the control panel
when the sliding doors separated and the elevator opened. An old woman using
crutches exited, followed by an elderly man who smiled broadly with straight
white teeth.

The young woman stepped aside, exchanging the bright smile of the man, then lifted the bag and entered the cabin where she carelessly dumped the bag on the floor. Pushing the button for the third floor and waiting for the door to close, she thought about how slow hospital elevators always were.

As the doors began to slide shut, a woman's hand appeared from the outside. “Wait a minute...”  a voice on the other side said. The sliding doors opened and a girl appeared,
breathless.  She had neither hair nor eyebrows, and her face was a grayish color.  She
wore a gym suit, but it was easy to see the girl's thinness.

She was breathing heavily after her race. “Thank-you! It's the third time I've tried. When it's possible to return home, who knows why it is always rushed. I am going to the third floor.”
“Me too.” replied the girl with the duffle bag.

Leaving the ground floor, and the pale sun of the Spring morning, the elevator began its
slow rise to the Oncology Center.  But, just after the first floor, there was a shake and the elevator halted. The internal light blinked a few times then turned off completely.

“Oh, God. It's stopped!” exclaimed the girl with the bag.

“Yes, it seems so, and there isn't even an emergency light...”

Moments of darkness and silence...

The girl with the bag searched her pockets and pulled out her mobile phone, and the whiteness of its display gave a spectral atmosphere to the cabin. “There's no signal!” she exclaimed after wandering for a few instants in the four angles of the small space, trying to find a connection.

Then, directing that weak torch toward the elevator buttons, and finding the red symbol of the emergency bell, she pushed it hard, insistently.

The electric tone of an alarm echoed in the entry halls of all the hospital, even though inside the dark cocoon of the cabin they could barely hear it.

The girl with the bag tried to be reassuring: “That's the alarm. Now they'll come to liberate us.”

The other one replied “I was doing the last trip up and down, before going home. My phone is in the car and my husband is waiting for me there. I hope that they can get us out of here fast, because I have no way to advise him and...”

She was interrupted by a metallic voice coming from the control panel: “We've received your call and are working to unblock the elevator. Are you ok?”
“Yes, but we're in the dark” answered the girl with the bag.
“Maybe the emergency batteries are not charged” said the voice, “How many of you are in there?”
“Two, she responded. “The husband of one of us is waiting in the parking lot.”
“It won't take too much time and the elevator is secure. Just wait.”

“OK, but hurry!” answered the girl, taking on the role of speaker for her companion
in mis-adventure.

She turned on the display of her telephone and pointed it downward.
“My bag is full of clothes, so it's comfortable. Let's sit on it.”

The two women sat down close to each other on the gigantic duffle bag and leaned against the metal walls of the cabin.

“My name is Chiara” the girl with the bag introduced herself.  “I'm Alessia” replied the girl who had lost her hair.
“I'm going up to Hematology” explained Chiara, “because yesterday they told me that I have Leukemia.”

Alessia hesitated a moment then began to speak: “I'm so sorry. I am recovering from an acute Leukemia. I had a bone marrow transplant a little over a month ago, and now I'm returning home. Or at least I hope so.” She concluded with a tight smile. Her expression was tired and listless, but she tried not to appear in too much difficulty.

Again, the display of the cell phone switched off.  “You can turn it off if you like, added Alessia.

Inside that temporary obscurity, the two young women began to talk and compare experiences. Curiously, the darkness eliminated most of the normal barriers typical between two people who don't know each other.

“How did you discover that you had Leukemia?” asked Chiara.

“One night I fainted” answered Alessia.  “I had never fainted before, in my entire life. I had pneumonia and could not recover. Fainting was a sure signal that there was a problem, that things were not going well. So, the next day my husband brought me to the Emergency Room.  They did a blood test then admitted me immediately. And you?”

Chiara answered: “For several days I felt weak and had trouble even standing up. I had blood tests and, considering the results, this morning in the Emergency Room they told me that I have Leukemia and need to be admitted. I raced home to pack this bag. I live alone. I couldn't suddenly remain here.

Chiara was full of doubts and questions; she had no idea what was going to happen in her life in the coming days.  “What's it like to stay in the hospital? I've never been in one, except to visit a friend who'd had an accident, two years ago.”

“At first I felt horrible” said Alessia. “The infection in my lungs provoked a high fever. I understood little of what was happening around me. Then, with time I got to know the doctors and nurses. I promise you that they are special people. I have a wonderful friendship with some of them. The therapies are long and difficult. I won't hide that from you. But, if you are able to maintain your optimism you can handle anything.”

“Alessia” said Chiara, “I'm a positive person, even if I usually create confusion. I live on impulses and generally I lose” she smiled. “So much that I live alone. But I certainly don't lack optimism!”

“Hey, they'll often tell you that with the right attitude the medications function better” replied Alessia, who was mentally revisiting the most difficult phases of her recovery “and you'll discover how true that is.”

Waiting inside the elevator was becoming longer than predicted. But, it wasn't so unpleasant now. That time of great confidence and sharing was good for both of the girls, and eliminated part of their accumulated tensions. For one of them it was about the anxiety of returning home, and for the other for the entry into a new phase of her life, one which was totally unfamiliar to her.

“Did you ever lose hope?” asked Chiara with a hint of worry about the possibility of an affirmative reply.

“I had some very difficult moments” answered Alessia.  “I asked myself how I ever could have overcome them. But, I never thought that I wouldn't make it.” Alessia's voice softened,
“Stefano, my husband, was always next to me. He was a formidable support. I have to say that without him it would have been imposs...” Alessia hesitated, thinking of Chaira and the fact that she was alone. She was afraid of being offensive. “Chiara, excuse me. I didn't mean that...”

“Don't worry” the other girl interrupted. “Having a loved one next to you is undoubtedly a great help and comfort. I often think of my Mother, who has been my Guardian Angel for the last three years.  She'll know how to protect me from up there.”

That young person created a feeling of tenderness for the way in which she knew how to turn her world into something positive. Alessia thought that Chiara could never imagine what she'd have to affront there, in the near future. But she realized that Chiara's optimism would be an enormous help.

Once more, the metallic voice of the technician was heard. “We're ready. Now, we'll make the elevator return to the ground floor, then we'll open the doors.”

And, with a jolt, the elevator began to descend.
Alessia turned on the display of the telephone. Chiara's eyes were bright and they exchanged glances of understanding.

They helped each other to get up from the duffle bag and waited for a few minutes, then the sliding doors of the elevator finally began to open and the light of day struck the two girls, who blinked and covered their eyes with their hands against the brightness.

Timidly, they took a few steps to exit the cabin and found the technician welcoming them, along with two nurses, who assured themselves that the two girls were fine.

Alessia asked to borrow Chiara's cell phone.

“Stefano. It's me. I was blocked in the elevator, but now the technician has freed it. Yes, I'm ok. I still have to go upstairs. Wait for me. As soon as I finish, I'll be there. OK. Ciao. Bye.”

She returned the phone to Chiara and turned to her: “Chiara, I promised myself that I would never again return to this hospital if it was not necessary. However, if you'll allow me to be your friend, I'll come to visit you every moment that I can.”

Chiara, slightly embarrassed, said “I... but certainly!”

Both of them smiled and hugged. In that tight embrace they found fear and comfort, anxiety and serenity, darkness and light, pain and joy. And the reciprocal desire to do something good for each other.

It was the beginning of a grand new friendship.

Downward

Italian

Falling, falling...
The flight is disorderly.  I struggle, but can't find anything to grasp, and I fall...
There is no light; I see nothing, or perhaps something has blinded me.
There is no sound; I hear nothing, or perhaps something has deafened me.

I don't know what I left behind, and don't know where I'll end up.
Downward, head first.
My eyes open, searching for a signal. There is none: only dark and the precipice.
In my contortions, the flight now finds me face down,  further, always further downward.

The sensation that I am going to crash is strong.  I imagine my body in slow motion, one piece at a time making contact with the ground. First my elbow, then my wrist, and the shoulder. Then the head, followed by my pelvis. Finally, legs.
The noise of the bones breaking: a cruel crackling that I hear loud inside me.
Then, the taste of blood in my mouth. Hot rivers which flow from my nose and ears...
A sense of dizziness  fills my head... the eyelidslower... abandonment...

I  shake myself! I am still here, and I'm still falling, or at least this is what I believe...

There is a great sense of solitude. I tighten my fists until they hurt; I have  to prove to myself that I'm still alive, that I exist.
With my fists tightened until they shake, I open my mouth and begin to scream.
Yes! I can hear my own voice. And feel the pain in my hands tortured by my contracted nerves.

I am a tense and screaming figure, falling dizzily in the darkest black.

Or, better,  in obscurity. Perhaps there is a vague reverberation of light, a slight, diffused, blurry glimmer in the distance... a horizon which is slightly less dark.

A clear line becomes silhouetted in the distance, from left to right. Intense, ever more intense.
Then it becomes larger and rises into a ray of light invading my vision and blinding me.

A sound I recognize  comes closer and fills my ears... it is my voice and I am screaming.



My forehead is sweaty. I am waiting until my eyes become accustomed to the light, which, after all, is not so bright.  In fact, it is just a diffused blue-ish gleam.

My voice's echo disappears... I turn my head... I am laying down and the bed is that of the transplant unit. The gleam is only the night light. I am alone.

The sheets are pushed away  and tubes stick out of my chest, then, after a brief  journey, they arrive at a trestle on the left.

I was dreaming, it seems, dreaming of falling and this is not surprising, considering what is happening to me. The reality of that dream is striking.
Once more I can feel that dismay and the terrible loneliness.

It's time to get out of bed. My bladder is urgent again. What hour is it?
Three-fifteen in the morning. Only forty minutes have passed since the last time.

I throw my legs down, and find myself balancing, seated on the edge of the bed.
Touching my bare feet on the ground, I search for my slippers and at the same time detach the needle from the pump feeding it, which is operating with a battery.

I get up, and with a tired step drag myself towards the bathroom.  I have to use vinyl gloves... ah, here's the box of them.

Hurrying, because the pressure on my bladder is ever more urgent.
Finally, I take the container and can free myself from that pressure.

Two hundred. I have to remember that.
Forgetting the measurement has already happened...

Flush. Take the gloves off. I wash my hands and... there is my face in the mirror.
I have no hair. My eyes are dark and sunken and my expression is gray and tired.
My shoulders are small and boney. I wonder if I'll ever be the same as  before.

I wash my hands, push the trestle next to the bed, then I put the feed back in place.

On a small table I find a piece of paper and a pen, and I write the new quantity at the end of a long column... 200.
Finally, I return to bed, taking care that the tubes don't become folded.

Turning towards the pillow, as always I repeat to myself out loud: “I can do it. I can do it. I can do it!”

Then I close my eyes. Always there,  I feel like a soldier standing at attention, waiting for who knows what event to happen.
The bone marrow transplant has already been done.
In fact, all I have to do now is wait and hope.
I have to drag myself ahead in the minutes, in the hours, the days...
I must. I must...



… and I collapsed.  I felt into a deep and desperate sleep.
A necessary, indispensable sleep. Even knowing that in half an hour I had to get up and repeat the entire process again.

Occasionally I have this dream.
Starting with the dream within a dream: that free falling flight, from the unknown to the unknown.

If I have to find sense in it all, I believe that it comes from the fact that fear is part of life. It's impossible to exclude it.
But however it might surround us, there always will be the moment in which we stand up and do what must be done.
How tired or afraid we are doesn't matter all.

Never being afraid isn't courage. It is unconsciousness.
Courage is going ahead, despite the fear.

15 meters

Italian

Too  many times, by now, I have found myself at the bottom of the well, and had to climb back  up.

The first time was the worst. I didn't even know that I could go so far down and then emerge again.

The second was difficult too, and I attached my hopes to the fact that I'd already made it once.

The times afterward were easier, because I was already familiar with  the road.

But, I still can't get used to it.
Down there, I  feel cold and solitary. I realize that to rise again I have only my own strength to count on.

Ironically, my path now travels through a cycle of hyperbaric oxygen therapy.
Now I make this trips, to the bottom and back again, twice a day...

At the pressure of 15 meters below sea level I can feel every breath of oxygen introducing new life, and that my every molecule receives a part.

With all this oxygen inside, my body has to rise again. Lighter, healthier, stronger.

This is the meaning: the darkest, most profound abyss is where evil is defeated and new hope drags me to the surface.

Boldness

Italian

He was one of the great ones.
The cigarette always in his hand.
He loved to talk about himself.
And saw everything from on-high.

He dressed elegantly.
Appreciated fine cooking.
He didn't turn his nose up at BBQ.
And drank only the best wine.

He had a luxury car.
And a motorcycle in the Summer.
Sporty just right.
With always a careful eye towards his look.

He did give in to vices.
And had tattoos on his claves.
He was worried about baldness.
And always had new sun glasses.

But suddenly he discovered that he was human.
He found that he wasn't made of steel.
Something broke.
He became speechless.

He began rethinking his life,
at the stupidity of his gestures.
He was sorry for his idiocy.
His pride vanished.

"What can I do, doctor?
I'm thinking of my son, my baby, my wife...
I had such a stupid life!
Is there a remedy? A way to make my future brighter?
... please, where did I put my lighter?"