Market Street BART Station - October 30,1991
I have a vision of the place that I am sure is wrong. White tile everywhere with little black tiles lining the corners of the walls and floor. The floor is made of black something, maybe rubber, maybe glass. Posters are placed here and there with dollar amounts on them – is that how much it costs to ride? The sign nearest me says Get Home.
The right hand is the one that betrays me first - a tremor. No. nonono. I am biting tinfoil. Metal shiver from the right canine through the ear, back of the neck, where it turns into a buzz that disperses through the blood. I am buzzing.
Shit goddamn motherfucking ass shit I am so mad at every single person in San Francisco. I hate you. Fuck all you fuckers because you are about to see me fucking fall on the fucking floor and pee my pa
In. I know where I am. I’m on the floor of course. I drag my dead lead arm two inches that feel like 26.3 miles. Was Mark walking with me? I know he was somewhere in the day. I think he is going to get me something. No he’s gone. I’m alone. People are talking. Open your eyes stupid.
EYES OPEN AND ALL SENSES SLAM INTO ACTION/OVERLOAD
TOO MUCH LIGHT
someone rifling through my bag - my wallet
ow my head someone is pushing on it stop please stop go away
are you ok? who is Mark? What’s your name honey? Can you hear me? Its Katie, her name – it’s on her card here. Did someone call 911?
in. weak. aware that I am soaked the waist down. but warm, a blanket. it’s darker but loud. Moving. hey! I know this! it is ambulance! I have an IV. make my hand cold.
i. drug push. veins burn from in to heart to fingertips and toes. No info can exit this head but I hear you.
“why isn’t that boy upstairs in Pediatrics? This is no place for a little kid.”
“he just shot his parents”
in neurological exam. I can follow the finger.
“Hey there’s our girl!” Half a dozen people I barely know and as of this moment hate.
“It’s ok, miss Katie! Mark sent us to take you back to the club – you can stay in Mark’s office until closing and we’ll go out to breakfast!”
Doctor Neuro to the rescue: “I think “Miss Katie” needs to go home and sleep for a couple of days. Someone needs to get her home.”
Dr. Neuro: “I will discharge this woman when someone promises to take her home.”
Blank stares. “Let’s call Mark.” They call.
Innocent faces with wide oh-so honest eyes are back. Aurora volunteers. “I’ll take her home doctor.”
“All right. Just step over here please.” She does. The others close in. “wow seizures must be so cool – do you remember them? Are yo..” Aurora is back
“We are out – sorry miss Katie, we’ll tell Mark you’re here.” They leave. Quickly.
“I told her I wouldn’t release you to a driver whose pupils were dilated that far.”
“thank you” is the first thing I remember saying all day.