Status: Hiatus.
She Said, She Said
lay down, the threat is real
The next few days went by in a blur. Aunt Debra came to visit and I was surprised to see that she brought Tamara along (who looked rather uncomfortable and fidgety). I ignored them both. I could see Aunt Debra's face redden as she tried to control her anger, but she failed. With one last glare, she said something to Tamara that I didn't quite catch, and then stormed out of the room, Tamara at her heels. Dr. Hernandez came to check in quite a few times over the week and sometimes tried to strike up a conversation but all I did was nod or shake my head. He got the point and didn't talk at all after that. Nurse Laura had taken a disliking to me as well. Everytime she came in, she would give me my medications and then walk out without saying anything.
You know what, though? I was glad. Maybe a few weeks ago, I would've tried to talk to them or say sorry, or something but now? Now I didn't give a rat's ass. I didn't care that Aunt Debra had stopped bringing me her little presents, I didn't care that everytime Tamara came to visit all she ever did was stare at the wall, I didn't care that Nurse Laura always glared at me like I was an ungreatful, little brat. I didn't care.
I hated this place. I hated everyone who tried to talk to me or tell me that everything was going to be 'okay.' I was a little happy of one thing, though: the pain stopped and so did the pain killers. I had the usual headaches or stomaches but that was it. I didn't have to force any more pills down my throat and end up throwing it all out afterwards.
Leaning back in the wheelchair, I let out a sigh. I was getting used to the wheelchair, too. Not like I had to do much; all I really did was sit back and relax while one of the nurses pushed me around. As I looked around the now familiar hallways, I realized that I didn't know anyone here except Dr. Hernandez, and Nurse Laura. Other nurses introduced themselves to me but I always forgot their names. I was thinking more about the patients, anyway. Never once did I see someone else being pushed in a wheelchair but that could be because I didn't really pay attention to my surroundings.
I looked straight ahead and groaned when I saw the bathroom come into view. I did not want to move from the wheelchair and onto the toilet. I looked up at Nurse whatever-her-name-was innocently, taking a quick peek at her name tag and said, "Lesley? I don't need to go, can we please go back?"
She shook her head and looked straight ahead again. I scowled at her even if she couldn't see me, then turned back around so I was facing front. As we came close to the bathroom, I slid down more in the wheelchair and gave a loud sigh. The thing I found most surprising was that I hadn't looked at myself all the time I'd been here which had to be about a month and a half. I had almost forgotten how I looked, for God's sake!
When we were in the bathroom, I immediately faced the mirror. A thin, pale face stared back at me. My blue eyes were dull-looking, and my lips were dry. There were dark bags under my eyes, and my blonde hair hung limp. I touched my cheek to see if I was real. Nurse whatever-her-name-was staring at me oddly. I gave a dry cough and turned back to her, waiting.
She rolled her eyes slightly then went out of the room so I could finish up.
*
After I was done cleaning up and was back in my room, slightly tired, in came Dr. Hernandez. He stood there for a second, a thoughtful look on his face, shook his head, and smiled at me. Uh-oh, what now?
"I've got some news for you," he said. I waited. He spoke again a minute later, "You're going to be admitted into a rehabilitation center after two or three days. You'll stay there for approximately three months or maybe more depending on how long it takes for you to recover back your strength and learn how to walk again with prosthetics."
"You mean like . . . fake legs?" I looked at him, a bit confused.
He nodded.
"But . . . I don't think I'm ready for that yet! I can barely move from my wheelchair to the toilet or to my bed and you expect me to walk with legs that aren't even my own?" I felt childish saying so, but it was all true. Did they expect me to start walking after I'd been in bed for over a month?
"Well . . . " he fumbled with his words for a bit before speaking again. "I guess it's up to you to . . . to decide whether or not you want them yet. But do you really expect yourself to move around in a wheelchair for the rest of your life? You're only fifteen, Valerie."
I thought about what he said then mumbled, "But just not yet. I want to be able to move around in my wheelchair first . . . and see how it goes. Then I'll . . . I'll think about the other choice . . ."
"Alright, but you're still going to the rehabilitation centre. Are you okay with that?"
I nodded. He smiled and left the room.
Well, I thought, it couldn't be that bad, could it? It's not like I have anyone to miss when I'm gone. I sighed at the depressing thought and laid down carefully.
Soon after, I was asleep.
You know what, though? I was glad. Maybe a few weeks ago, I would've tried to talk to them or say sorry, or something but now? Now I didn't give a rat's ass. I didn't care that Aunt Debra had stopped bringing me her little presents, I didn't care that everytime Tamara came to visit all she ever did was stare at the wall, I didn't care that Nurse Laura always glared at me like I was an ungreatful, little brat. I didn't care.
I hated this place. I hated everyone who tried to talk to me or tell me that everything was going to be 'okay.' I was a little happy of one thing, though: the pain stopped and so did the pain killers. I had the usual headaches or stomaches but that was it. I didn't have to force any more pills down my throat and end up throwing it all out afterwards.
Leaning back in the wheelchair, I let out a sigh. I was getting used to the wheelchair, too. Not like I had to do much; all I really did was sit back and relax while one of the nurses pushed me around. As I looked around the now familiar hallways, I realized that I didn't know anyone here except Dr. Hernandez, and Nurse Laura. Other nurses introduced themselves to me but I always forgot their names. I was thinking more about the patients, anyway. Never once did I see someone else being pushed in a wheelchair but that could be because I didn't really pay attention to my surroundings.
I looked straight ahead and groaned when I saw the bathroom come into view. I did not want to move from the wheelchair and onto the toilet. I looked up at Nurse whatever-her-name-was innocently, taking a quick peek at her name tag and said, "Lesley? I don't need to go, can we please go back?"
She shook her head and looked straight ahead again. I scowled at her even if she couldn't see me, then turned back around so I was facing front. As we came close to the bathroom, I slid down more in the wheelchair and gave a loud sigh. The thing I found most surprising was that I hadn't looked at myself all the time I'd been here which had to be about a month and a half. I had almost forgotten how I looked, for God's sake!
When we were in the bathroom, I immediately faced the mirror. A thin, pale face stared back at me. My blue eyes were dull-looking, and my lips were dry. There were dark bags under my eyes, and my blonde hair hung limp. I touched my cheek to see if I was real. Nurse whatever-her-name-was staring at me oddly. I gave a dry cough and turned back to her, waiting.
She rolled her eyes slightly then went out of the room so I could finish up.
*
After I was done cleaning up and was back in my room, slightly tired, in came Dr. Hernandez. He stood there for a second, a thoughtful look on his face, shook his head, and smiled at me. Uh-oh, what now?
"I've got some news for you," he said. I waited. He spoke again a minute later, "You're going to be admitted into a rehabilitation center after two or three days. You'll stay there for approximately three months or maybe more depending on how long it takes for you to recover back your strength and learn how to walk again with prosthetics."
"You mean like . . . fake legs?" I looked at him, a bit confused.
He nodded.
"But . . . I don't think I'm ready for that yet! I can barely move from my wheelchair to the toilet or to my bed and you expect me to walk with legs that aren't even my own?" I felt childish saying so, but it was all true. Did they expect me to start walking after I'd been in bed for over a month?
"Well . . . " he fumbled with his words for a bit before speaking again. "I guess it's up to you to . . . to decide whether or not you want them yet. But do you really expect yourself to move around in a wheelchair for the rest of your life? You're only fifteen, Valerie."
I thought about what he said then mumbled, "But just not yet. I want to be able to move around in my wheelchair first . . . and see how it goes. Then I'll . . . I'll think about the other choice . . ."
"Alright, but you're still going to the rehabilitation centre. Are you okay with that?"
I nodded. He smiled and left the room.
Well, I thought, it couldn't be that bad, could it? It's not like I have anyone to miss when I'm gone. I sighed at the depressing thought and laid down carefully.
Soon after, I was asleep.