Behind the old linen curtains, there is a light milky white light, revealing that the sky has already dawned.My heels hurt, my head felt like a huge weight, and there was something like a diving bell covering my whole body.My room withdraws gently and slowly from the gloom.I pored over photos of my loved ones, children's doodles, posters, and a tiny iron cyclist sent by a friend the day before the Paris-Roubaix. Take a closer look at the bed surrounded by the railing. This bed is where I have been clinging like a hermit crab on a rock for six months. It doesn't take long to know where I am. I remember that my life took a big turn on Friday, December 8 last year.

Before that, I had never heard anyone mention the brainstem.On that day, I had a cardiovascular accident, and the so-called brainstem lost its conduction function, and I suddenly realized that it is an important hub for the operation of our brains and an essential path connecting the brain and nerve endings.In the past, my disease was called "cerebral hemorrhage". Once it happened, it would be a dead end.Advances in life-saving medical technology have made the punishment of patients more sophisticated.Although I was saved from death, I was trapped in such a situation: paralyzed from head to toe, consciously closed in my inner world, unable to communicate with others, and could only communicate with the outside world by blinking my left eyelid.This condition has just been named "locked-in syndrome" by British doctors.

Of course, the parties are always the last to know that they have such good luck.In my case, I should have been in a coma for twenty days before my bodily functions were completely damaged, and then I was unconscious for several weeks.It was not until the end of January that I awoke in Belk Naval Hospital Ward 119, the same ward that now receives the first rays of morning light. This is an ordinary morning.At seven o'clock, the chapel bell began to chime, and the fifteen minutes and fifteen minutes marked the passage of time.After resting overnight, my obstructed bronchi made a humming noise again.My hands were curled up on the yellow sheet, and the pain was so painful that I couldn't tell whether my hands were hot or cold.Instinctively, I stretched my limbs to overcome my joint sclerosis, trying to move my arms and thighs a few centimeters.Often, this relieves pain in some limbs.

When I am cocooned and less oppressive, my heart is able to fly like a butterfly.There are so many things to do.I can soar through space and time, to the southernmost island of Tierra del Fuego in South America, or to the palace of King Midas in mythology. I can visit the woman I love, creep up to her side, and touch her sleeping face.I could build castles in Spain, loot the Golden Fleece, explore Atlantis, fulfill my childhood dreams and fulfill my adult ambitions. For the time being, stop the flying fantasies.I had to conceive how to write the beginning of this travel note while sick in bed. Before the publisher sent someone to write down the content of the note letter by letter, I had to prepare the subject matter.In my mind, I have to stir each sentence ten times first, delete a word, add an adjective, firmly remember the sentences I made, and memorize the sentences of each paragraph and paragraph.

Seven thirty.The lady nurse on duty interrupted my train of thought.The day's routine activities started on time. She opened the curtains, checked the endotracheal tube and the drip for the injection, and then turned on the TV to watch the news.Now the TV is showing a cartoon about a toad that jumps the fastest in the West.What if I wished that I would become a toad?