99 days

When we are admitted in an ICU, in every hospital, we are thinking in the discharge to the ward as the great trip, always rising, even if we are on the same floor or a floor above. Thinking willfully the exit is always up, at the top, where there are windows that let us see the Sun.

We doubt many times, because of the absence of natural light, or the difficulty the day has to enter through such machines and both noise there are always in the ICU.

Up to the ward is the great desire of all, the return trip to the world, because we return. We return from an unknown place. We have the feeling of being in a rare room with our suitcase half-baked beside the bed.

Every day we hope on the border to validate our passport prepared to cross. Our nerves shake us when the staff open the custom and the effective manager and his assistants begin their inspection. We stretch the neck, smile, with the hope this time is good, and so, every day is the same and different at the same time at the border.

We comb and dress us with our best clothes (we believe so), because the mirrors were forgotten and we only have the eyes of out room mate to verify our presence.

We only want to hear our name, loud and clear, without a doubt, and take a step to the front to start in the other side our return to the real world.
Raquel Nieto