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In the middle of the noisy street, a long row of white-painted railings was half-cut as tall as a man. It stood there quietly, not smelling the traffic flowing by, not asking the pedestrians who rushed by, it was not afraid of the wind or the rain, it just stood there quietly. Day and night, everything changes, everything has nothing to do with it.
Stepping over the lower railing, across the road is a hospital, with several tall buildings standing straight up. The façade of the building is coated with a faint layer of blue, which looks holy and calm. The windows in the building are densely packed, and the black window edges are like a pair of eyes, looking down at everyone who passes by.
The fourth uncle lived in a building closest to the gate, heard that the intestines had an infection and lived here, and could not imagine what kind of illness he had before seeing him, but vaguely felt that his intestines seemed to be oppressed by something.
The 16th floor, almost the highest floor of this building, is suspended in mid-air, tens of meters away from the ground, and farther away from the sky. The elevator door in the downstairs hall has always been crowded with people, and the only thing that everyone has in common is that their brows are locked, the patient is, the person who visits the patient is also the same, the anxious look is the same, how important a doctor is in their minds at this moment. The patient in the wheelchair shrugged his head, the face was as silent as ash, the hands and feet were irregularly hanging on the edge of the wheelchair, and the person pushing him was even more cautious, afraid that one would accidentally aggravate the disease. The patient who can stand independently is also supported by his family's arm, his sluggish look, his stiff body, as if the god of death is at his side.
Bypassing this dark zone, the situation on the stairs is very different. The figures that suddenly went up and down, the footsteps that clucked, and there was a trace of fresh breath in the air. There are gradually fewer pedestrians above the sixth floor, and it is rare to see a pedestrian above the tenth floor, and I climbed up to the sixteenth floor in one breath, and my heart naturally slammed like I was going to jump out, and my face was swollen and rosy, but I didn't dare to exhale.
The air in the ward was heavy and dull, and it seemed as if he could grasp it with his hand, and here his breathing became light and slow, and if he was a little lighter and slower, he would not be able to breathe. The patients on the bed lie in different positions, but you can imagine the moment he lies down, the doctor or nurse says "yes, that's it", so the posture is frozen, and the body no longer moves at will, even if the position is not comfortable. Here, the body is not your own body, consciousness is not your own consciousness, everything is arranged by others, you have to drink water, you have to eat medicine, you have to take injections, you have to cooperate with this and that. The fourth uncle was lying down and dripping, but he was full of energy to tell me how the disease developed and how to wait for the examination, without the slightest intention to exaggerate the possibility of the development of the disease, calmly as if he was talking about other people's things.
The window sill of the room was relatively clean, and there was a simple plate of green baskets, which stretched out its branches and leaves wantonly, and it should be the only one here who was not restrained. The sunlight outside the window is just right, occasionally skipping one or two birds, curiously probing out, looking down at the ground, up can not see the sky, the vague body seems to be bound by some invisible force hanging in mid-air, can not talk, can not move, can not hear the surrounding sounds, but the consciousness is awake to the extreme, the soul seems to be out of the body, the light of life flickers and disappears, accompanied by only the clouds outside the window.
The elevator at the end of the corridor runs tirelessly, always transporting people to their destinations quickly, but never thinking about your joys and sorrows. The moment the feet touch the ground, the spring breeze hits the face, the air is fresh, the flowers are sweet, the birds are singing, the sun is pouring all over the body, the cells in the body beat happily, and a sunny flower blooms in the bottom of the heart. Surrounded by vendors, streams of vehicles, scurrying pedestrians, annoying and real...
Stepping over the lower railing, I took a big breath and strode forward with heavy feet, drifting away from the blue.
Author: Li Dan, Huangmei literature lover
Editorial board
Cao Jinjun
Editor
He is a member of the Hubei Provincial Writers Association
Member of Hubei Provincial Photography Association
Wei Xianhong
chief editor
He is a member of the Huanggang Writers Association
Tang Yahong
Executive Editor-
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Following the publication of the book "Huangmei Through Time and Space" in 2016, Huangmei Cao Jinjun's Irori has been edited into a volume of outstanding works in the irori oven from 2015.7 to 2017.6. The main content is the thick culture, customs and beautiful scenery of Hubei Huangmei. Genres include prose, travelogue, photography, fine art, calligraphy, poetry, and yanglian. The layout is color printed, the price is 60 yuan a copy (excluding courier fees), and it is publicly distributed at home and abroad.
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