The ECT Recovery Room

I pulled out another slip of paper from my “seeds” can.  The seeds I collected some time ago at my Draft & Craft Workshops.  You may remember, all of us wrote out “seeds” on a small piece of paper then we randomly picked some for ourselves from the pile.  The purpose is to give us an inspiration when we need it for a writing prompt.  Writers should write every day and sometimes our brains need a push or in my case, something interesting to write while not working on my manuscript or articles for the local paper.

The seed I picked tonight puzzled me.  I had to Google.  I will leave it at that and it will speak for itself….I hope.

The ECT recovery room is a thing….

I lay there.  Alone in my dark place.  I imagine hope.  The promise that I will be cured and live a normal life.  What is normal?  Who, besides Mr. Webster decides what is normal?

None of my friends know I am here.  What would they think?  I am alone.  In a sad place.  Trying to find a door, any door out of here.

The recovery room is somber.  I lay on my side and stare and nothing. The door swings open with staff checking on the others.  I wish I could be just left alone.  I wish someone was here next to me.  I see the sun shine outside; why doesn’t she shine on me?

I’ll need more treatments.  I’ll need to stay in  melancholy a bit longer.  Perhaps that is not so bad.  Perhaps the next time this grey space will warm.  Perhaps next time the ECT recovery room won’t be just a thing, but perhaps it will be my Hope.