Invasive
Paul Radcliffe
When your life support is turned off,
you needn’t read your
horoscope. I had fallen down stairs. Head hit the radiator. Blood on the
carpet. More to the point, blood inside my skull. As soon as it happened, I
watched myself on the floor. The ambulance, my kids crying, the hospital and
the scans. I was on a ventilator. I heard ‘brain death’. I saw the tests. Ice
water in the ears amongst other highlights. My blood pressure was monitored
through a probe in the artery near my wrist. The probe was wired to a monitor.
It led to a socket labelled Invasive
Blood Pressure. I watched the pattern and the numbers changing. A red line
moving in arch shapes. My kids were upset. I decided to cheer them up. When you
are in the waiting room for the Great Beyond, certain abilities are granted—I
don’t know how. The kids looked at the monitor. The nurse had briefly stepped
outside the room. The children always loved dad jokes. I changed the
waveform—the arterial curve of the invasive blood pressure. The curve became
words. I spelled out this award winner…
‘Why don’t crabs give to charity?...because
they’re shellfish..’
My daughter saw
this. I loved surprising her. The waveform—the invasive blood pressure—returned
to normal. The brain death tests concluded. No happy endings. My daughter
thinks she was hallucinating. She wasn’t. I am not sure exactly where-or even
what-I am now. I will still visit. It will be a nice surprise.
Paul Radcliffe (on himself) Based in
New Zealand. Had an aunt who lived in a haunted
farmhouse in England. Haunted by a monk-yes, really-which explains a lot. Works
in Emergency, susceptible to hypnosis by cats. The supernatural is at its most
disturbing when it subtly overlaps the everyday and the boundaries blur. Has
worked in various places that are unlikely to be confused with holiday
destinations. Grew up in Liverpool but missed the Beatles, and always eager to
add to a growing collection of pirate jokes.
