The Drafted Reality and Dreams

CHAPTER 10: MARY

I have been in the hospital for what feels like a decade. I feel like death is just around the corner, I might just be paranoid but I believe that something or someone is after me. Crazy to think that way but I'm just speaking what my brain thinks. Dad himself visited me a couple days ago, laying in bed was a headache; I've been antsy since then. The only time that I could get out of bed was walking with dad in the hallways that day.
This room that I've been staying in was the only place where I would feel relief and safe. Similar to home but much more quiet and cleaner, but the hospital is more out in the open; more public. Home isn't very public, more private than anywhere else.
There wasn't any clock ticking, familiar voices and faces, and there surely wasn't any mess in the room. The whole place was strange, I thought I got used to my surroundings but I was wrong. Never gotten used to nurses checking on my progress, my doctor would rarely check on me; mostly when I have a seizure. Nothing new, nothing changed, I've felt the same ever since I first came here. My injuries have healed, getting my cast off of my arm on Sunday, which is good. The cast has been bothering me, it was uncomfortable to have my arm covered when I woke up here. Am I used to it now? Yes actually, I sometimes forget that I have such a thing on me.
My meals are different each day, but I would sometimes get the same meal. The food in general isn't terrible but it isn't easy to eat here and there. I would sometimes wonder where they would make food here in the hospital. Would there be a kitchen somewhere? Or do they order the food instead? The food would arrive in bowls and plates, so I don't really think they would order the food and put it on plates. Just thinking about it makes me uncomfortable.

After 10 minutes. . .
Laying in my death bed

After 20 minutes. . .
Fell asleep

After 30 minutes. . .
Using the bathroom

After 40 minutes. . .
Homesick
After 50 minutes. . .
    Rethinking about my life

    After 60 minutes. . .
    I would eat my meal

    After 70 minutes. . .
    I will go to sleep for the rest of the day.

    It was the next day, the sun was shining brightly on my face. I wiped my eyes before sitting up on the bed. I felt light headed for a hot minute, looking around the room. Quiet... The room was empty as usual, nothing changed, nothing new. There was a couch in the corner of the room along with a coffee table and a side table.
    Today was the day for dad to visit me, he usually visits in the morning. About two hours after I woke up. Would ask for my breakfast to be served at a later time, mostly in half an hour or a full hour. Dad used to bring coffee and cinnamon rolls when he visited. I'm not sure why he doesn't any more, but it was nice of him to do so.
    I got up from the bed, walking towards the big window that had folded blinds above it. As I looked out the window, I saw vehicles, people, and my reflection. My reflection is what catched my attention to begin with. Just seeing my own reflection makes me hate myself. Hate how I look weak, fragile, and gloomy. I never looked like death my entire life, looking like this is unforgivable. Being a patient at a hospital doesn't bother me, but looking like this does. Wearing a hospital gown, having my arm covered with a cast.

It hurts...

Why would it hurt to begin with? Shouldn't it be a common thing around here? Hospitals exist for a reason; a place where people can heal their injuries. So why? Why would it hurt?

Nothing new, nothing changed...

Everything looks the same, why? Why is everything the same? Has time stopped? Why don't I hear a clock ticking? Am I stuck in time? Have I lost it? Have I let myself go? Time doesn't just stop. So why? Why hasn't anything changed?

    "Ms. Francis?" An unfamiliar voice called out, and I turned around to see the nurse. "Everything alright?" She asked, walking further into the room.
    "I'm fine." I answered coldly, going towards the bed. "Can I have my breakfast?" I asked her, "Sure, you want the usual?" I nodded.
    She put the needle of the IV back into the vein of my arm, "What's the point of this? The liquid, the whole thing."
    She smiled, "It's to prevent a patient from dehydrating." She stepped back, "You can't keep pulling it out, it will leave marks on you." She sighed, "I will come back with your breakfast as soon as it's ready." She walked out of the room. Hearing the door close quietly.
    I laid there in the bed for a while, staring at the ceiling. The nurse came back into the room with my breakfast; French toast, yogurt, oatmeal, and black coffee.
    "You're lucky to eat in bed." The nurse smiled, "Hope you enjoy your breakfast." She said, placing the tray on top of a bed table tray. The tray had bowls and plates on top of it; There was only one plate which had the french toast on top.
    It would sometimes take me a while to actually eat especially when I only have one arm that's actually available. Would even depend on how hungry I would be in the morning; whether I have an appetite or not. I would even sometimes force myself to eat, but it is less likely especially when I have the same types of food everyday. It can be quite boring to eat the same meal per day but I got used to it.
    I started with the yogurt first, taking my time. The yogurt tastes like strawberries along with bananas. Blueberries sat on top of the yogurt which had sunken and the population of the blueberries on the yogurt grew small every bite. It was cold and fresh, it was relaxing. I looked over to the oatmeal, I licked the spoon clean just to dip it into the bowl of oatmeal. It had almost a funky smell to it but it looked appetizing. It was warm, the opposite of the yogurt. The flavors of the oatmeal made my tongue melt. It was satisfying to eat.
    I was mostly focused on the oatmeal and the fruity yogurt. The two were my favorite. They are soft and can easily enjoy them when you take the time to. I honestly got the time in the world, every ill patient does. I'm not ill though, not like others who have gotten badly hurt, have a disorder in general or a disability. Most of the human population would be considered as patients. Most people look fine after they get out of the hospital but doesn't mean that they will look fine forever.
    Nobody is perfect, nobody is normal, and nobody is truly healthy...

    The poor consider the rich to be healthy and normal when that is a lie. I can feel it in a way, the rich hides away behind red curtains on stages. The ones who are on the stage performing are the poor. The rich think that the poor are unstable and aren't healthy; Always dirty, insecure, imperfect, etc. But that's also just a feeling. Me and my family are on the poor side, we may live in a rich neighborhood but that doesn't mean that we don't become poor after we are settled in the house. May not be able to move out for a while.
    Dad has his own business, sticking needles into people that need it. Mom may have passed away but she used to be an author. Stepmom is a stay at home mom. Edson still goes to school as he is only in middle school. And me, I could work somewhere part time which is what I can only do when I'm not in the hospital.
    I may not know what's wrong with me, my doctor may have but they never really told me. But I'm here for that certain reason; seizures. Well I...–
    I finished both the yogurt and the oatmeal, left with the french toast and the black coffee. Coffee doesn't taste very good when it's cold, the heat of it is what gets rid of the bitter taste of the coffee. I could've asked for sugar to keep it sweet and some cream as well. When I first woke up here after the accident I was in, I stuttered when the nurse asked me what I would like for breakfast and such so here I am, drinking black coffee.
    After a little bit more I finally finished my first meal of the day. The fruity and the bitter taste surely didn't go so well together, the bitter taste of the coffee was strong while the fruit that was an added topping that I asked for later on while being here wasn't as strong.
    All I could do now was to wait for a few minutes until the nurse came back. The nurse would usually come back almost around the same time, three minutes after I've finished breakfast. She would sometimes come a later time or would come back even before I finished my meal.

    After a few more minutes the nurse finally came back.
"I see you have finished, hope you enjoyed it just like the other days." She smiled, coming to collect the tray.
    "I have as usual." – The nurse nodded her head – "How long have you been working here?" I asked her.
    She hummed, "Maybe for a few years." She smiled softly, "Why?"
    I shrugged, "Just curious." I looked at her chest and saw a name tag. "Flinton?" I mumbled.
    "Hm?" She looked down at her chest, "Oh, yes. Flinton.. Sarah Flinton, just Ms. Flinton is fine." She chuckled softly.
    I nodded, "I will be going now and stay in bed." She smiled, leaving the room with the tray.
    I sighed, leaning back against the bed. "Stay in bed" and do what? I turned my head, looking out the window from afar.

I closed my eyes and before I knew it, I was asleep.

10

20

40

And a whole hour passed by, I opened my eyes. Nothing new, nothing changed
What's next? Dad not coming to visit? A strange feeling that he won't be. Why? Don't know...
He never came, nobody that's in my life visited me. Why? What could they be doing that's so important? What is it exactly? Am I not important?
    Without realizing it, I have been spacing out. A force was shaking me, it was the nurse; Ms. Flinton.
    "Mary Francis?" – She had a concerned look on her face – "You alright?"
    I nodded – She sighed in relief – "You have been diagnosed with epilepsy a little while back. Your parents should know about it. Did they tell you yet?" She asked.
    I shook my head, "No, they did not."
    She nodded, "You will be signed out tomorrow and will be treated as well. Epilepsy isn't fully curable but medication can help with the seizures."
    She explained epilepsy and what may have caused it...–