Happy To Be Dead?

He looked at me, thoroughly confused by my demeanor and asked very seriously this time, "Are you really okay?"

"Yes, I am fine. Why did you ask again?"

I knew what he meant and my tone definitely took him by surprise, but I pretended ignorance.

"It's just that I have never seen any person who is this happy to be dead – oh sorry, almost dead," he eyed me suspiciously.

"Oh that! I was shocked earlier, but there is nothing I can do to make this right. Can I?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes, I did see that you were shocked earlier, but you can really pull off extreme emotions," he replied in a skeptical tone; somehow, I felt he was deciding whether I was mentally ill or not.

I smiled at his words and expression, but he didn't reply to the most important question, so I repeated, "Can I do something? May be if I lie down inside me… or something…"

He definitely knew what I meant and he didn't find this humorous; instead his eyes turned sad, "No, you can't. I have tried it many times but it just doesn't work."

I could see he was very upset, and somehow, I found the courage, "How long have you been stuck…"? I kept word 'dead' steer-clear of the way; I was pretty sure he wouldn't like it any more than I did.

"Three months." His clipped two-word answer left me aghast.

Oh God! What a tragedy. He answered my unspoken question.

"Car crash. I have been in a coma since then.

His announcement evaporated my excitement and we took a quiet walk around the hospital. Until I realized that my problems might distract him or even maybe cheer him up. Misery loved company, didn't it?

"Any idea what happened to me?"

"No, but we can find that out."

"How?"

"Hopefully, your friends and family would come and visit you today, and the doctor would tell them what happened."

He was right, it was almost morning now – the world was starting again, without caring I wasn't in it anymore.

"Is it possible for people to wake up from this… err… situation?"

"Yes, I have seen twenty-six people ever since I have been here, and fifteen made it back."

Fifty-fifty odds, I thought.

He immediately guessed the direction of my thoughts.

"Don't worry; I am pretty sure you will make it back." He gave me bereft smile.

"And I am sure both of us will make it back," I replied, trying to inject as much confidence in my voice as I could.