Hourglass

⏳Sands Of Time⏳

"We're bringing your mum and sister in," explains Jeannie, tidying up my room, systematically putting things into place. I'm glad they're finally coming to visit. Because of my illness, Mum can't bear to see me suffer. In fact, my best friend Anya has been my only support. She comes and visits nearly every day, sitting by my bed, playing MarioKart with me, reading to me as I fall asleep. She's always there, but today she's at a dance competition and can't visit. I don't mind. Anya may be lovely, but admittedly she gets a little annoying sometimes.

But I'm still confused. I don't get why Mum and my sister are coming in on a normal day! I mean, they were there when I was in the ambulance, they were there when I went into surgery, they were there when I was diagnosed with sepsis... but why now?

That's exactly what I ask Jeannie.

"Well, there's something we need to tell you," says Jeannie, running her fingers through her blonde curls, "but your mum and sister need to know too, so they can... er... plan accordingly."

Plan accordingly?

What the actual hell?

The blue, papery curtain around my bed whips back to reveal Serena, my beautiful mum. Next to her is my 10-year-old sister, Sammy.

"Darling," gasps Mum, rushing to my bedside.

"Hey sis!" Sammy greets me with a grin.

One of my many doctors, Dr Austin Short, walks in holding a black manila folder, my name inscribed on the tab in white paint pen.

"Good morning, Kohl family. Good morning, Nurse Nicholson," he says calmly, smoothing down his black beard and straight, greasy hair.

"Good morning, Dr Short," Sammy, Mum, Jeannie and I all reply mechanically. Dr Short is very picky about how he is addressed. We learnt this in the first week I was in hospital: Mum was screaming at the nurses and doctors because they were being slow in looking after me, which I can't blame her for. Dr Short got very angry at her, telling us we needed to respect him more. All the while, I was tied down in bed watching it unfold, drifting in and out of consciousness. I wished I could help.

"We have those test results back, Ms Kohl," Dr Short explains, leafing through the manila folder.

"Really? That's great!" says Mum, smiling.

"You may not think that when you see them, Ms Kohl," drones Dr Short.

Mum's smile falters. The glint in her eye disappears.

"What do you mean, Dr Short?" she questions, voice shaking.

"Well, Ms Kohl," Dr Short says monotonously, "Aster's condition is declining rapidly, as you can tell."

I choke on my saliva. Jeannie props me up with a pillow, patting my back. My auburn curls are tossed into my face in the chaos.

"You right, Aster?" asks my concerned sister. I would reply but I can't. My voice is broken, no sound is coming out. I can't believe this is happening. Broken, quiet voices echo through my head...

Declining rapidly.

Aster's condition.

Sepsis.

Plan accordingly.

PLAN ACCORDINGLY.

Oh my God.

"Aster is going to pass away tonight, or tomorrow," Dr Short's present voice cuts through my mind.

When Jeannie said 'plan accordingly', she meant plan for my death. For my funeral.

Holy sh-

"You mean..." Mum stutters, barely a whisper.

"She's going to... die?" Sammy says in utter disbelief. A fat tear rolls down her freckled cheeks.

"No, no, no, no..." Mum repeats quietly. This is the worst thing. First I get hospitalised. Then I get a life-changing diagnosis. Now I'm going to die.

At least Mum won't have to pay for me anymore. It'll just be her and Sammy at home, no Dad or even me; just the two of them and the quaking wildlife around the house's perimeter... surely I can hang onto life. They can cure me.

Right?

As if on cue, a tearing pain splits through my head. I swallow my own blood, spilling through my nose and mouth.

No.

No.

No.

This is really happening.

Broken voices and blurred faces flit around my aching head. The sands of time are slowly trickling through the hourglass.

"We need to put her in a coma as soon as possible!"

"Where's the oxygen supply, Dr Short?"

"Quickly, quickly!"

"Aster? Aster! Please. I love you. Stay alive for me, please."

My last thought before I drift off is of how I would spend my last day if I wasn't in hospital.

I'd go have bubble tea at that new store with Anya and go get sushi too. I'd study the clouds and sleep under the stars, write about my thoughts and feelings, go home one last time, trick-or-treat with Eliza, apologise to everyone I've wronged. I'd perform in the school musical and play a sonata with my music teacher, make a song, maybe even live for one last Christmas.

Wait. I can do all that in my head!

Taking a deep breath, I let the propofol reduce my senses down to nothingness. I may be paralysed, but I have the power of dreaming.