“Mom!” I managed to get out as my voice cracked with the effort of speaking over the delirium.
“Tony! Honey! Don’t strain yourself, I’m here! What is it?”
“Surgery?”
“It’s the only way to make you better, baby. You don’t want to be paralyzed, do you?”

The fear of paralysis hit me, though not as hard as it should with the drugs still running through my system. The heart monitor beeped faster and the nurses shushed my mom. They began working their magic and the beeps slowed down.

I felt myself calming, my brain had stopped thinking about anything. It only took in data, like my Dad pulling my Mom out of the way and even out of the room. I saw, but then I forgot. I heard words like “prep” and “surgery” but it didn’t mean anything.

Then it all went black.

I remember a bright light once. It was warm and friendly. My grandfather’s voice was inside of it. He told me it wasn’t my time and I felt pushed to go back to the blackness.

I woke to a dim room. I was still in the hospital, and I still couldn’t move.