There’s a Stranger in my Body
I don’t know what day it is or where I am. I can’t possibly seem to remember anything. When I look at the mirror next to me, there’s a face staring back that I don’t recognize. Who am I? As time goes by, I begin to realize that I’ve lost recollection of basic memories an individual is meant to have. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to remember my name.
“They must have done something to me,” I said with conviction, as I sat down in a room that smelled like chemicals and cleaner. I made an attempt to get up, but my vision begins to blur. So, as quickly as i got up, I sit back down. Suddenly, I start to feel a pounding in my chest as my heart-rate quickens. Panic begins to take over. A million questions surface creating a chaos much like a haboob(1).
“Hello”, I say loudly with a hint of fear in my voice. My call is met with a resounding silence as my voice echoes through the barren room. Yet still, I persist. I try getting up again. Taking a step forward, I stumble to the ground as my legs give up under me.
A quick pain follows this incident. Looking down at where I lay, I stare back at body parts that I do not recognize. My limbs seem unstable, in a state of constant uncontrollable spasm. The arms stretched in front of me bear evidence of decades of life. I’m staring down at a wrinkled carcass. I feel like deadweight.
Terror, fear and a mix of indescribable emotions begin to take over. There’s a stranger in my body. An alien presence, one unbeknown to me. Despite having no recollection of my identity, I know with certainty that I can’t possibly be… old. The mirror once next to me sits a few feet away from me. I crawl as quickly as the aged vessel I find myself in could permit me to. With searching eyes, I stare down at a bag of wrinkles. My face.
My head jerks up to the sound of the door opening. Men in white rush towards me and I curl myself up like a turtle sensing danger, retreating to its shell. Cold hands grab me and lift me off the floor. “Mr Brown, you can’t be falling out of your bed”, says the one with glasses. “Where am I?”, I croak, my voice hoarse. “The Harvey-Davis Senior Home and Rehabilitation Center”, another man speaks up. A senior home? “No, no,I’m only in my 20s sir”, I speak up. “I want to go home”, I say in protest, “I do not recognize that old man in the mirror, but it’s definitely not me”. My demands are met with an emotionless practice smile. ”Sir, you are 93, you’re well past your 20s. You were admitted by your granddaughter this Monday.”, says the man with the glasses.
Silence dawns after the man speaks. I seem to have forgotten what I had just said. What was he speaking about? Why can’t I remember? What’s wrong with me. Anger builds up as I reach my breaking point. I feel trapped. I’m a prisoner in my own body, one that I have no recollection of.
Unknown word(s)
- Haboob: is a type of intense dust storm carried on an atmospheric gravity current, also known as a weather front.