The Diary of Arizona Welch
When a young woman turns her car into oncoming traffic, it is not just her life that will be change
By Eric W. Gershman
Literary Fiction, 10 minutes
I turned my car into oncoming traffic, not because I wanted to die, but because I
didn't want to live.
Now, the machines hiss in the ICU and doctors bustle around me. A nurse is
wearing a ponytail so tight it looks painful. She is accompanied by a hospital worker – a dude – who has short sleeves and the muscles to pull them off. No smiles come my way. The staff at Presbyterian Methodist Hospital mostly refer to me as a 29-year-old female.
I feel hands maneuver underneath my body. "One two three. Lift!" Next thing you know, I am on my stomach.
"Oooh-kay then", says Short Sleeves, and rests his hand gently on my back. His
accent is something East European.