Birthday at the Edge of Death Day

"Happy birthday!" they sang—but it wasn't my birthday.

I tried to play it off cool; it wasn’t my birthday but I wanted those presents I could see on the table behind them.

“Yeah!” I said, letting the awkwardness drain from my voice. “It’s totally my birthday! You remembered and everything!” As I said this, it dawned on me that from now on, I’d probably have to pretend that my birthday was on this date. But the presents glistened before me, and I

would have to pretend that I was excited, everything was confusing. "Happy birthday!" they kept saying

over and over. Have I gone insane? Did I know these people? All of a sudden, I heard a bell toll. A warm sensation took over me. That’s when I knew this wasn’t real. That fall wasn’t just a dream. This coma is where my thoughts are. And someone’s birthday is in the room over.

I feel my body…in pain. My legs are being squeezed rhythmically with some kind of machine. So much pain— the fall? The sunlight was shocking as I opened my eyes for the first time in— how long was I asleep? A hospital room. Happy voices from the other room. Happy birthday, kid.