Yesterday’s daily prompt was this:
You’re locked in a room with your greatest fear. Describe what’s in the room.
The answer is in the statement: I’m locked in a room.
My greatest fear has always been a total lack of options. For example: A while ago I had to go the ER. After a while they gave me an IV and rolled me down the hall for a CAT-scan.(1) When they brought me back, I cried. Ashley, who’s spent more time in the hospital than most nurses, didn’t understand. I was crying because, hooked up to an IV and awaiting CAT-scan results, I couldn’t just up and leave if I wanted to. There was no option for me other than to lie there and let other people determine my next few hours. Or days. Or weeks.
I used to think it was the lack of freedom, but I’ve come to understand that my notion of freedom is ephebic at best. It’s not freedom I need as much as options. If I can’t see a way out, a way to fight, a way even to wait it out…if I can’t see a way to exercise my own will upon something, that’s when I become afraid.
So there it is. If I were locked in a room, my greatest fear would already have come to pass.(2) I would only hope I’d do a bit more than cry like a little bitch.
- I do believe this was the first time I’d ever had an IV. And a CAT-scan.
- Though being in a locked room with every surface covered in Post-It notes – or really any kind of adhesive substance – would be probably worse. Then I’d be afraid and completely freaked out.