Scintilla

Blackness. That is all that she saw. No light. No faces. No colours.

Something was on her face. Amy pulled at it and asked “Where am I?”

“Oh Amy! You’re awake! Oh thank goodness.” That sounded like my mom.. But where was she..?

“Mom?” Amy asked into the darkness.

“Yes sweetie. It’s me. Amy, you’re in the hospital. You went into Diabetic shock again Dear. You gave us a pretty bad scare,” My mom said as she grasped my hand tightly. “Your father just went down to the cafeteria. I'll be right back. I need to get a doctor sweetheart.”

Amy felt her mother’s hand leave hers and heard the crinkle of her mother getting up off the chair. Soft clicks from Amy’s mother’s shoes were heard as she began to walk away.

“Mom, can you turn the lights on?” Amy asked while her mother was still in the room.

The clicks stopped. “What?” Amy’s mom said.

“The lights mom.” Amy said with an attitude. “Can you turn them on? It’s really dark in here. I can’t even see my hand infront of my face.”

“O-okay dear. I’ll be right back.” her mother stuttered before she quickly scurried out of the room.

“Or don’t turn on the lights.” Amy huffed. She crossed her arms on her chest as she waited for her mother and the doctor to come in. After a few moments, the soft clicks from her mother’s shoes could be heard along with small pitter patter sounds from what seemed to be the doctor’s shoes.

“Hi there Amy.” A male voice said from Amy’s right.

“Hi.” Amy said shortly. She felt her mother’s hand slip carefully back into her’s.

“Well Amy, do you remember anything that happened to you?” The doctor asked her.

“I let it happen again.” She sighed.

“What did you let happen?” The doctor asked.

“My numbers were through the roof again weren’t they?” Amy asked in a mix of bitterness and defeat.

“Yes. Amy you shouldn’t be here right now.” The doctor said carefully.

“W-what?” Amy asked in shock.

“You’re a lucky girl. Your blood sugar was in the thousands. Diabetes isn’t something to play around with. You should know that by now Amy.” The doctor’s tone was a mix of scolding and trying to be nice.

“Yeah yeah yeah. I get it. I need to get my act together. Can you just turn on a light now?” Amy asked as she reached to run her hand through her hair. She was beginning to get annoyed with both the doctor and her mother.

“Is it dark for you Amy?” The doctor asked curiously.

“Yes. It is.” Amy said starting to pass annoyance and heading to getting angry.

“Amy, I’m going to need to run a test or two. Can you follow my light?”

“What light? It’s dark.” Amy asked.

“We’re going to schedule you for an MRI, okay? We need to figure out what is going on.” The doctor said as he began to walk away. “Mrs. DaMaire. Would you please come with me for a moment?”

“Of course.” She said. She quickly squeezed her daughter's hand and then followed the doctor out.

Once the pair were out of earshot, the doctor began to speak. “Mrs. DaMaire, I don’t know why, but at the moment your daughter is unable to see. We are going to do a quick MRI to see if something had happened in her brain. As you know, when she was in the coma, her brain swelled. The pressure on her eyes and optic nerves could have caused some damage. We will be able to find out more with an MRI and then having a few specialists come in and take a look at your daughter. At the moment though, it seems that the chances that your daughter will be able to see again look grim.”

Mrs. DaMaire couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her 17 year old daughter could be blind. She took a deep breath and smoothed out her black dress suit jacket. “What can I do?”

“There isn’t much you can do. You can just let us take care of your daughter.” The doctor said with a smile and a reassuring clap on the shoulder.

Mrs. DaMaire tried to return the smile. It was weak with a twist of fake thrown in there. The doctor turned to leave and walked down the hallway. Mrs. DaMaire could hear him at the Nurse’s station asking someone to book an MRI for Amy.

The walk to Amy’s room seemed like an eternity. How could she tell her daughter that she may never see again? How could she tell her daughter that it would be okay when she knew that the word “okay” would have a completely different meaning after this.

She stood outside of the ICU room that her daughter had been put in 5 days prior. The room was a sort of bittersweetly beautiful. The wall of glass windows and doors made the room feel welcoming and warm. Yet knowing why the room needed to have a way to see what was going on at all times made it seem more cold and scary.

“I can hear you.” Amy’s voice rang out through the quiet.

“Hi sweetheart.” Her mother smiled sadly as she walked to the side of Amy’s bed.

“Do they know what’s wrong with me yet?” Amy asked with a small shake in her voice.

“No.. They’re trying though.” Her mother reassured her.

Amy began to talk again, but was interrupted by the doctor walking in and telling her that it was time for her MRI.

Mrs. DaMaire was left in the ICU room with her thoughts, a lump in her throat, and the soft beeps of the machines that seemed to be everywhere in this wing of the hospital.

What would she do if her only daughter wouldn’t be able to see anymore? Everything that she had worked for throughout highschool and then her freshman year in college. All of her work had gone down the drain because she hadn’t been taking care of her blood sugar the correct way. She was there when the doctors told her that Amy would most likely not make it. Amy shouldn’t have and she knows it.

The lump in Mrs. DaMaire’s throat became too much and she just broke. Sobs racked her body as she continued to think. Her beautiful daughter may never see again. She would never see the sunset that she so often would sit outside to watch. She would never see her favorite flowers bloom every spring. She would never see the blue sky or the green grass. She would never see anything. She would see eternal blackness.

Mrs. DaMaire lowered her head to her hands and just sobbed. Nothing that she did would be able to help her daugher. She could hope and pray every second of everyday, but that would only do so much. The wishes at 11:11 and wishes on a shooting stars only had so much magic in them. She needed more magic than that. She needed an ocean full. She would do anything to make it so her daughter would be able to see. She’d give up her car, her house, her job, and even her own vision.

“Mrs. DaMaire?”

Her head snapped up and wiped her eyes, “Yes?”

“I just wanted to let you know that your daughter is coming back from her MRI.” The timid female nurse smiled.

“Thank you very much.” Mrs. DaMaire smiled back.

Moments after the nurse left the room, Amy was back.

“I’m staying this way aren’t I?” Amy asked.

“Amy, Don’t-” Her mother began, but was cut off by Amy.

“Don’t tell me not to talk like this. I want the facts mom. I’m not a child.” She said.

Her mother sighed. “They don’t know yet. I think we’ll know more once the MRI comes back. They said that it didn’t look too good though sweetheart..”

“It might be cool, ya know? Having that cane? Just walking around and hitting people with it when they piss you off. I could just blame it on my blindness.” She smiled.

“Well that's nice dear.” Her mother laughed shortly. They fell into a comfortable silence. It wasn’t long before Amy drifted off into a light slumber.

Amy woke up a few hours later and opened her eyes. “Mom?” Amy said slightly scared.

“What? What is it?” Her mother asked in a panic.

“Is there a light there?” Amy asked as she pointed to the wall lamp.

“Yes sweetheart.” Her mother said with a smile and a small sense of relief. She placed a small kiss on the top of her daughter’s head.“Yes there is.”

“I-I can see it. Not the object... Just the brightness. Is there one over there too?” She asked as she pointed to the open supply closet across the hall. It shut moments later. Amy looked disappointed. “Nevermind. It’s gone.”

“That’s because it was a door. It’s closed now. It was open before,” her mother said as she ran her hand through her daughter’s hair and placed another small kiss on the top of her head.

“It’s a scintilla of light. It may not be much, but it gives me hope.” Amy smiled. “Maybe I won’t need that cane after all.”

“Maybe you won’t,” her mother repeated.

There was a newfound hope in Mrs. DaMaire. The spark, the flash, the tiny, the scintilla of hope that she had had grew. It had grew into more. She believed that her daughter would be able to see again. Although the hope had been tiny and small, it was brilliant. It would shine bright and brilliantly until there was nothing left to hope for. Her daughter would see again. She could feel it.

It would happen. She knew it because small things, like hope, always turned out to be magnificent and change everything.