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Hey! I don't tell you how to defend my crimes, don't tell me which crimes to commit.

High Flyer

Title: Dolore [ReV 241]
Featuring: Brian Postal
Date: March 2011
Location: Istanbul, Turkey (for the most part)

The crowd is roaring.

“Brian. Brian.”

Fingers snapping.

“What?”

“How many fingers do you see?”

“Uh…”

“Where are you?”

“Umm. I--”

Lights flashing.

“What’s your birthday?”

“Just-- gimmie a sec--”

“He’s losing it.”

“No-- I’m--”

Loud voices.

“His eyes are rolling back in his head!”

“Wha--”

“Where’s that gaddam gurney?”

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Brian gasped and started to choke.

‘What the hell?’ thought Brian as he woke up in a panic.

‘Where am I?’

‘How come I can’t breathe?’

He grabbed at the obstruction in his airway. Breathing was laborious. The machines around him started beeping and soon nurses were rushing through the sliding glass door.

“Bay Postal, o dur! O dur!”

Brian thrashed around to see who was yelling at him, not sure what they were saying, he still couldn’t breathe, and the signage didn’t make sense. The characters looked familiar, but they were accented and the words were unrecognizable to him.
“Doktor Kaya getir!” yelled one of the nurses as she helped to restrain a terrified Brain Postal. He was starting to understand what was happening, but he still couldn’t breathe right. He pulled at the tubes that seemed to be everywhere, trying to free himself from his surgical-tubing prison.

“Mr. Postal, stop!” yelled Dr. Ayden Kaya from the doorway. “If you remove your Trach tube the wrong way you could get hurt.”

Brian tried to calm himself in order to slow his heart and breath rate.

“Where am I?” The frail question emanated from a tube sticking out of Brian Postal’s throat.

You are at the Atakoy Health Center in Istanbul. We’re only a few minutes from the Sinan Erdam Dome. But don’t get your hopes up for wrestling next week. You’ve just come out of a coma.

Brian winced in pain as he looked at the doctor and asked a second question, “What’s happened to me?”

Dr. Kaya, a Turkish man who studied medicine in England, sat in the chair beside Brian’s bed. He was quite a handsome man, an olive-skinned John Stamos. He had just a hint of a beard coming in. Postal concluded it must be late in the afternoon. The doctor placed his clipboard across his lap and looked Brian in the eyes.

“You were leaving the ring at your wrestling event when you collapsed. Paramedics couldn’t get a coherent response from you so they shipped you to the hospital. Shortly after arriving you slipped into a coma. PRIME had you shipped to this hospital and a man named--” the doctor referenced his chart, “--Shakur? Devin Shakur. He called me and said I had to get you well in time for the next event. I told him there was nothing I could do as long as you were in a coma. It was pretty scary. You stopped breathing… it looked bleak for a while. Now that you’re up let’s see about getting that trach tube taken out, alright?”

Brian waved his hand as if so say ‘no’ and forced out another question as the doctor ceased his rise from the chair and sat again waiting to see what his patient wanted.

“How long ‘til ReV?”

“I wouldn’t worry about that, what’s impo--” the doctor stopped, seeing Brian’s angry look. He smiled and replied, “Look, it’s five days from showtime there’s a small chance that you’ll make it to that show, but you have to follow doctor’s orders, clear?”

Brian nodded, convinced he’d be at that show.

“Okay,” said Dr. Kaya, “Now, we’re going to put you under with a general while we remove that trach tube. You’ll be back with us in... maybe an hour, okay?”

Brian nodded again and the doctor patted him on the leg as he left the room and gave the nurses some instructions in Turkish. Postal was relieved, it seemed as though the worst was over. He tried to get comfortable while he waited for the surgery. His thoughts turned to the room surrounding him.

No cards. No balloons. Nobody.

He thought about Rachel. He wished so much that she was there, like she’d been so many times in the past. He thought of the scent of her perfume and he almost started crying. He thought about the fool he had been. The decisions he had made. The words of an old hymn came to his mind ‘Soul are you weary and troubled? No light in the darkness you see? There’s light for a look at the saviour, and life more abundant and free.’ and he prayed. God, help.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

“Why are you such a bitch!?” Brian hollered at his fiancee from the hospital bed.

His Fiancee? Rachel Reid. 5’10” firecracker with dirty blonde hair and steely grey eyes. She had the kind of devious smile that really made you excited. She always had something up her sleeve and firmly believed that life was short. She grew up the daughter of a Pentecostal preacher. But the Orange and the Green was never a problem. Brian’s parents only went to Mass on Easter Sunday and Midnight Christmas Eve… and they never ate fish on Friday. Like most pastor’s kids she got into some trouble during a rebellious adolescence. But they made it through some very, very dark times together. She thought if the events of spring 2000 couldn’t drive them apart nothing could. Now she was afraid she’d been wrong.

“That’s not fair, Brian. I’ve been by your side every step of the way. I’ve put up with your--” Rachel paused. Collected herself and took a deep breath. “Brian, I have stood by you, and even carried you through everything. I’ve always been here. But this is too much. My family and I helped after the accident and the foster care thing. I even stayed through this stupid flight club thing. But Bri, this is honestly too much. I can’t stand idly by though this.”

She stood there, at the foot of his bed in a private room at the Etobicoke General Hospital. He refused to look at her, rage written on his bruised and bandaged face.

“Well?” she pushed.

“Well what?” he seethed, glaring at her face.

“Are you getting out before you get too far in?”

“Look, Rae, it’s not that simple. I’ve made a comm--”

“No, you look!” she interrupted, “I’ll make this a simple decision for you. It’s me and the life we’ve been building together, or it’s them and the new life you’re building for yourself.”

Another stretch of silence.

“What’s it gonna be, Brian? What more important to you?”

Brian’s countenance softened a little as he looked in her eyes, and listened to her plea. He really did love her, but he just felt that she wanted him to give up too much.

“Don’t you understand, Rae? This IS for us? I can make more money in just a couple hours now than I could make in a month before. Why won’t you get behind me on this?”

“Brian” Rachel sighs, “I’m not interested in that life. You need to decide.”

“I can’t.”

“You just did, Brian.”

Rachel started to tear up as she pried the .5 karat stone from her left ring finger and placed it on Brian’s bedside tray.

“What are you doing?” He asked, dumbfounded.

She didn’t respond, though. She just grabbed his hand and kissed his forehead before turing and walking away. She paused at the door for a moment, turned and said, “Good luck, Brian. I love you”, before walking away.

“I love you too, Rae!” he hollered out the door, “Rachel? Rachel!”

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

“Gözleri yanıt vardır. O kadar geliyor.”

Brian’s eyes adjusted to the light. He was pretty sure he was still in the hospital. He saw Dr. Kaya standing over him and felt reassured.

“Welcome back, Mr. Postal.” said the doctor. “You’ll be pleased to know that everything went smoothly. We’ll need to do some tests to see if you can make your show next week. But things look really good. You’ve got five days and you seem to be very alert - especially after a natural coma. I think, if you follow doctor’s order like we discussed earlier, you should be good to go for your ReVolution event.”

Brian looked relieved.

“Now you rest, Mr. Postal, we’ll be back to check up on your in a little bit.”

“Thanks, Doc.” sighed Brian as the doctor and nurses left the room. And there he was, alone again.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away

I know a man
He came to my home town
He wore his passion for his woman
Like a thorny crown
He said Delores
I live in fear
My for you is so overpowering
I'm afraid that I will disappear

Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away

I know a woman
Became a wife
These are the very words she uses
To describe her life
She said a good day
Ain't got no rain
She said a bad day's when I lie in bed
And think of things that might have been

Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away
And I know a father
Who had a son
He longed to tell him all the reasons for things he'd done
He came a long way
Just to explain
He kissed his boy as he lay sleeping
Then he turned around and headed home again

Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away

God only knows
God makes his plan
The information's unavailable
To the mortal man
We work our jobs
Collect our pay
Believe we're gliding down the highway
When in fact we're slip slidin' away

View Brian Postal's Biography

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