Blog post 2.2
The myth that your life flashes before your eyes prior to a near-death experience might be true for some people, but not for me. However, I did witness a flash; it was a huge white flash, much like that of a camera, which temporarily blinds you for close to a second. But the metaphorical photograph taken was not a pretty one. The graphic, high-resolution image of bone, skin and blood, laid out on a New York City street, was agonizing. Maybe even more so than the physical pain. For the moment, my leg was the victim of a million torturous paper cuts. Although instead of paper slicing my skin, it was a tire that cut through my bone.
I woke up drained and confused. Drained of blood; pale and cold, but 20 pounds heavier; immobilized and frightened. Five doctors, nurses and surgeons stared down at me, making incisions with their eyes, post-surgery. The veins from my left arm extended into the bedside IV machine. To the right cried a small infant, similarly attached to a liquid-pumping medicinal monster. I was bedridden and hopeless. My right leg was drilled together with four cold, metal pins.
It was only the beginning…
In my original essay, there was no large break between the first and second paragraphs. I think adding some extra space between these two will help the reader realize that there was a significant time gap between the actual accident to when I woke up after the surgery. It will also let the reader relax, and absorb and understand what actually happened to me. I like the significant change of content and choice of narration. It moves from a vibrant, scarring description to a sort of delusional revelation.
The second break I played with was isolating “It was only the beginning.” In my original essay, this sentence was a part of the previous paragraph but I think isolation works better. It adds a bit of thrill, and makes readers anxious about what they are about to read next.
One response so far
Great experiment. I think the new par. breaks work VERY well here.