Dreams and awareness while recovering from anaesthetic can be a bit strange. Or at least for me they were. I think some part of me understood the fact I had nearly died and while my conscious mind simply emptied on the topic, my subconscious (never shy) was quite happy to offer its two-a-penny.

There was definitely a death dream. A large empty room with with a presence of others unseen. On the floor was my own body. It was nothing more than a grey-brown pile of dust arranged in my image, the slightest air movement had the potential to disperse my atoms to wisps. There was no emotional context, just a factual observation.

There were strong visual images when I closed my eyes, the brain creating patterns out of the random, I’ll be trying to get some of them onto canvas. There were intense flashes of memory from my life, not the major events as might be expected but the insignificant and the tiny. Unexpected emotionless recollections as if the mind were running some sort of deep checksum. Perhaps we really do remember everything.

The pressures on intensive care were obvious, I think I was shuffled around a few sites. One location involved a team building a proton beam therapy machine. Or I think it was. There were graphics projected from the installation that represented the various atomic s-orbitals, even the odd Schrodinger equation. Nice to know that even in my state I could recognise quantum mechanics. The construction seemed to involve people in strange garb that confused the eye, processing in some way large amounts of sand and a vault built into the wall from which the strangely garbed individuals emerged hunched and slowly carrying heavy objects. Silent trucks that scooted around with treasure from the vault. And a process of using what looked like a pair of drumsticks to seemingly shape some powerful magnetic fields, dust vibrating in mid air with a screechy voice. I wanted to talk with someone about the physics, what was being done and why. A detached part of me recognised the presence of my own normal curiosity and was reassured that something essential of me was still active. I also couldn’t help smiling at the coincidence of being next to such a machine while knowing we are built from such particles created at the big-bang. We are all just unique but passing collections of particles that recycle to the Universe.

There were strange hallucinogenic moments when one part of my visual field seemed to replace other portions in a kind of picture-in-picture effect. This created a sense of entire objects just vanishing from view as they were never really there anyway. This wasn’t disturbing, just curiously observed.

Being mostly awake for a week I heard the practicalities for the staff: long shifts with brief rest then back to another shift. The constant vigilance at Covid-19 control (not to mention other longstanding challenges like MRSA) The simple practical discussions about the hours remaining on lives, the need to get relatives in now, the ending of drugs that were now pointless. The quiet ushering one-by-one of masked and gowned relatives to small rooms for final unaware goodbyes. The last few hours of a person’s existence. “Where are the body bags kept?” and silhouettes on drawn curtains as the bodies are prepared and removed.

Real crying was impossible but I shed tears for all of them, named or not.

One instance stands out with what I assumed to be a cancer patient. The Gollum character from Lord of the Rings had more substance. The presumed Macmillan nurse cared for and advocated till and after death. At one point carrying away what seemed like a few feet of dry solid gently curved sausage. “What happened?” “What happens” was the simple reply.

Then the brief gap before the next bed is wheeled in and the appropriate rack of machines arranged with it’s medical musical of monitoring beeps. I did wonder why I was located there in particular. Was a clock running on me? I held to my more rational awareness of the various discussions heard around me with words like “recovery”, a mental playlist with the likes of ‘I Will Survive’ by Gloria Gaynor, ‘Alive’, ‘Never Give Up’, ‘Unstoppable’ by Sia. In fact most stuff by Sia. And then the first interaction with the nurse and the glorious moment of sipping water through a straw. “More?” “Oh yes, I’ll take the lot.”

The dedication and sheer effort of everyone shone through. Those who think Covid is some sort of overblown hoax should spend some time in intensive care. Or better still wear a mask and take the precautions.