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Thursday, August 14, 2014

ELECTRIC SHOCK


The worst part is conciseness. I am not really conscience, only perhaps half there. And I don’t know where or what there is.
I am slowly aware of the other zombies around me in varying stages of slow movement. They and the entire area seem to be surrounded by and permeated in a thick opaque whitish fog.
The forms start to morph into male zombies and female zombies. I knew by their clothing. I know, but don’t know how I know. They--and I are in various stages of becoming alive.
Some are still lying on gurneys, immobile, unconscious.

I don’t remember at this time that I was lying on a gurney on top of several hospital sheets. I was surrounded by medical personal. Busy. They are working quickly now. A needle is inserted into a vein in my arm. Electrodes are being prepared. Patches on my head and temples are swabbed with a coldish jell. A large syringe is fastened into the needle in my arm. They want me to count backward from ten. I never make it past seven. My last conscious memory is of the sheets being quickly folded over my legs and a rubber block placed in my mouth so I don’t chew or swallow my tongue or break my teeth when I convulse.
For several days I am only a semi-zombie and gradually life calms, the depression is defined and recedes, and slowly I begin to feel better. It took six or eight of these to get me onto a level playing field.

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