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Writer's pictureStanislav Ricci

Coma and Awakening: A Journey into the Limbo of Consciousness

Coma and awakening.

It is with a fixed and bewildered gaze that I find myself looking beyond the white walls of the recovery room, trapped in an uncertain limbo between life and death. My mind is foggy, memory fragments clinging to my synapses like leaves in a storm, as I desperately try to grasp the elusive reality around me.

I still remember the crash of the accident, the pain that ripped my soul and my last moment of conscience in the emergency room of the Ospedale Maggiore in Bologna. Then everything vanished, submerged in a deep and unfathomable void. I don't remember the journey in the ambulance, nor how I came to find myself on that stretcher, a prisoner of questions from the doctor on duty.


The words, barely whispered, cross me like a distant echo: Memories any contact numbers? Anyone we can call?. The telephone, custodian of that link with the outside world, had remained inexorably far away, sealed in my motorcycle seized by the police.

the photo shows a nurse in the hospital with a mask

My clouded mind can't remember anything but a number, my mother's, a persistent ring over time. But as usual, fate takes pleasure in playing its cruel jokes and my mother usually hardly ever answers the phone. The nurse behind the desk, Agnese, becomes my only point of reference, my hope in that sea of uncertainties. His hands fly over the telephone keypad, trying to reach that invisible thread that holds us together. But the absence of a response from my mother pushes Agnese to ask if I have any other contact numbers. I am stunned, unable to remember anything else. Then, almost like a subconscious whisper, I utter two words, two names Barbara, Frida< /em>. The doctor intervenes, his decisive tone cuts the air full of uncertainty: "So, Barbara or Frida?". My clouded mind responds without hesitation by repeating the same words as before: "Barbara Frida". His words resonate like a sentence: "Nothing, it's gone". At that moment, Agnese suddenly raises her head and asks: "But what about Frida, the florist?". My answer is a fragile yes, a moment of light in the dark fog of my thoughts. Then everything vanishes.


My fiancée, Barbara, a courageous woman who has found her life among the colors of flowers, is joined by Agnese. The phone call from a hospital inviting a family member to go calmly without getting too alarmed. And so, with a pounding heart, Barbara arrives at the hospital, while I'm already immersed in the artificial stillness of a coma.


Coma, that limbo suspended between life and death, becomes a burden not only for me, but also for those who love me. Desperation creeps silently into their souls, feeding impotence in the face of such an elusive situation. I cannot describe the pain that Barbara, my mother and everyone gathered around me felt. I can only imagine it, feeling their helplessness as if it were my own.


I realize how extraordinarily interconnected life is, how every existence is intertwined in a dance of coincidences and chance. Bologna, a city of half a million souls, shrinks in comparison with the meeting between Agnese and Barbara, where fate seems to play with its mysterious cards.Barbara proves to be an indomitable rock, a beacon of strength and courage in the midst of the storm. She finds herself having to make difficult decisions about my health, choosing between an uncertain future and relationships that are intertwined with my past. Although our relationship was young, his love and dedication transcended all barriers, paving the way for choices that would shape the course of my life.


The reason for my coma, the cause of this journey into the void, lies in the aftermath of that fatal accident. My leg, reduced to shreds, is just the prelude to a double frontal fracture that caused a devastating cerebral hematoma. While the neurosurgeons ruled out surgery, it was hoped that the hematoma would reabsorb itself, relying on the grace of time.


The days go by, an eternity of life-and-death struggle, as the medical staff decide it's here

A recovery room in a hospital

it's time to wake up slowly. My mind clings to distorted memories, third person visions that flutter like leaves in the wind. The line between reality and illusion blurs, leading me to answer the nurse's questions about my position with faulty confidence: Yes, I'm in Milan". Only to discover, with a thrill of surprise, that I'm in Bologna, trapped in the network of my physical state, after a serious accident.


Hallucinations dance in my field of vision, taking me on a surreal journey through imaginary worlds. I see a familiar face, a childhood friend I haven't heard from or seen in years. In sincere amazement, I ask him what he's doing there. His answer, full of concern and relief, reveals to me the truth that I have painfully accepted: I have become a source of fear for those who love me.


The days pass slowly in the resuscitation room, a universe limited by light walls and a corpulent nurse who holds the helm of my healing journey. Memories alternate between hallucinations and a slow awareness of reality. The visits, rare and brief, become the link between the outside world and my prison of flesh and blood. Barbara, always present, appears to me beyond the window behind the Venetian curtain, but my inexpressed voice does not find an echo in her gaze. A disappointment that dissolves in the embrace of his arrival, where a contained anguish explodes into words of anger. When Barbara comes to visit, I confront her with a mixture of amazement and frustration. What the hell are you doing out there? And above all, why don't you return my greeting?" I ask, the urgency to understand makes its way into my words. His gaze fills with wonder and a laugh lifts the weight of my heart. "Did you see me from the window? But if we're on the eleventh floor!, he tells me with a sweetness intertwined with wonder.


Brain damage, the amputation of my leg, become the cornerstone of my awakening. Awareness pushes its way through the folds of a tormented mind as I accept my new reality. I am no longer whole, but like a phoenix rising from the ashes, I prepare to embark on the path to my rebirth.


Willpower becomes a beacon in the dark night of my path. But it is the support of Barbara and of all those who they gathered around me which makes my journey possible. Gratitude fills my heart, thankful for the love and courage that have overcome every obstacle.In this dance between life and death, I learned that our existence is intertwined with invisible threads that bind us to each other. Through the determination and support of those around us, we can find the strength to face even the most difficult challenges.

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