“But the real pain is here.” I look up, indicating my forehead.

“Give me a minute, and I’ll change the sedative. Do you remember your name, or not yet?”

I stare at her blankly, trying to understand what she means.

“Fine. Do you at least remember the reason you’re here?”

I turn away so she won’t keep talking. She moves away, and I hear her disturbing the tranquility of things in the room. “Don’t worry,” she adds. “You’re going to be fine. You just need some time to get better and recover the ability to move your limbs. The doctor will come soon to explain everything to you.”

Her mouth opens and closes with some effort, as though her jaws have been secured with a rubber band. The words stretch out in her mouth, and their forms dissolve before the meaning appears. Or else I’m just not hearing too well since I have no desire to be where I am or to communicate with anyone. I have cut all lines, turned off the lights, and made my body still as I float on the black ocean, rising and falling with the waves. No, there aren’t any waves. No motion. No desires. I am an inanimate shape, a thing, made of straw, of cotton, of sponge. Yes, I am made of some brittle material, shot through with hollow spaces filled with air. I float in nothingness. My being is centered in a single point at the front of my head that bulges and throbs like a time bomb counting down its final seconds.

The nurse goes out, and a doctor in white comes in, accompanied by two white young men. He introduces himself and the other two, saying, “I’m Dr. Ghassan, and these are Dr. Sami and Dr. Shafik. Praise God for your recovery! Apart from the broken bones that you suffered, which will take some time to heal, we can reassure you that all your vital functions are fine.”

All my vital functions are fine? Amazing! My muscles wake up each day ready to set about their work with vim and vigor, performing their functions with smooth regularity. The heart pounds, strong and steady. The liver is in a state of peak readiness. The lungs are ensconced in their usual place. The stomach stands at the ready, awaiting orders. The brain polishes its connections and prepares the trumpet …