Almost every morning I try to watch the sunrise.

Every so often I sleep through it and am awakened, instead, to the afterglow of past noon.

That is nearly always disappointing.

There are days when I really don't care and instead just stare at the ceiling.

Or the wall.

Sometimes the IV stand to my right holds a particular fascination.

Something about the bubbles in the saline I think.

Sometimes I think my window is the only real source of warmth.

When they painted in here I suppose they thought that the few-shades-below-sky-blue color would be calming.

All it does is make me colder.

Every so often when a nurse comes in she'll touch my arm or cheek, exclaim at my goose-flesh, and bring me another blanket.

It doesn't happen too much, this place seems to be horribly understaffed.

I've learned to ignore the cold.

When one has been here as long as I have, one learns to appreciate the little things in life.

There is so little that makes me even think of smiling anymore.

I don't really know how long I've been here, lately my memories seem to be fading.

For instance, I can't remember if I ever saw snow here, but I can blatantly remember it coating the pine trees around my old home.

This place can hardly be considered a home.

Every so often one of the nurses will turn on the TV.

Since I can hardly hear anymore, let alone see very well, I know it's for their own pleasure, not mine.

One of the few things I can still see is the watercolor like colors of the sunrise.

That and the shadows that cast themselves on the opposite wall.

My IV stand in particular makes a rather rigid and yet topsy-turvy shadow.

It makes it seem like the world is falling towards the door.

The other day a woman I couldn't quite place came to visit me and left me flowers.

Because of the ventilator, I couldn't ask her who she was.

She seemed to know me quite well though, and just the hum and vibrations of her voice made the room seem warmer.

I didn't mind at all.

On her way out she kissed my cheek.

I think she had tears in her eyes.

I felt sorry for her so I tried to smile.

Damn ventilator and all.

She squeezed my hand and I saw a tear glide down her cheek.

I wish I could place her.

Over the next few days the flowers were a great distraction.

Lately I have been feeling different.

Not bad, just different.

They have me on so many medications that I don't think I could feel it if someone slapped me.

The flowers cast the most intricate shadows on the opposite wall.

All delicate curves and rigid lines blending from stems to petals.

However they seemed to absorb the artificial air in here too easily and died quickly.

I noticed today that I seem to be absorbing the color of the walls.

My hands in particular are getting paler and almost blue tinged.

No wonder I'm getting colder.

There was no sunrise today, just rain beating against my window.

On days like this I usually stare at the wall or the IV.

No warmth from the window you see.

Today I watched the window instead.

It was fascinating to watch the raindrops hit and then merge and slide and glide and run down the glass.

I think I've been sleeping more lately.

Since I can't see the clock or the calendar all that well I don't really have any way to judge the time.

I just think I have been.

I've been having the most splendid dreams, full of the most vivid colors imaginable.

Purples, blues, greens.

Reds, yellows, oranges.

Fuchsia.

Sometimes I think I'm going insane.

I saw the sunrise today.

I just looked outside and it looked like another sunrise!

It is the most beautiful one I think I have ever seen.

There are the most beautiful colors in it.

All the same colors that have been in my dreams lately.

I have never seen such vivid colors in a sunrise before.

It could almost be mistaken as a sunset.

I can feel how warm the yellow is.