Page 86 - Reflections_over_Akamas

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Real sources of false daylight; evenly spaced. The lemony scent of antiseptic accompanies my stretcher to a
blinding place that everyone around me refers to as the O.R. I gather I am at the great altar of human ingenuity,

where ordinary people like you and me, with extraordinary education and specialist training, perform miracles.
The surgical team is waiting for an answer. I feel terribly cold and tired as the pain and the painkillers fight a
fierce battle for the last remnants of my consciousness. I voice my concerns to the chief God in green armour,
who happens to be my Doctor and friend. “Yes, we can,” his voice utters. My heart rejoices, my mind blacks out.

My Odyssey begins.

“What are you doing here?” His face spoke until his vocal cords echoed something like a greeting. I was sitting

in a wheelchair on the doorstep of Germany’s best specialised hospital for multiple injuries, without any
notice, appointment or invitation. I guess we must have communicated in some kind of language because the
receptionist at the BG Kliniken seemed to acknowledge my predicament. I felt it. From that point on, rebuilding

my new life took a turn for the better. The two years it took to restructure my body became my own journey to
Ithaca. Throughout that time, even in the darkest moments, even when I had given up hope and was hoping

against hope itself, I never stopped rallying the medical team to my cause. My vision was clear and in full
colour, as it is with every major investment I make. “I will fly again, won’t I, Dr Schildhauer?

82 Reflections over Akamas
82 Reflections over Akamas