Perception / Perfection

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I'm just going to start this off by saying no one is perfect. You've heard it before, right? Every single human being on this stupid planet has their flaws, no matter how big or small they be. Thing is, perfection is a perception. You may be incredibly flawed to one person, but another may see no flaws in you. The flaws they're looking at aren't flaws to them, they're attributes of what they like about you. It's extremely rare to find these kind of people in your life, for them to see you as perfect or vice versa. And well, I suppose this is the story of the girl who did find her own flawed perfection in me, and I her.

It all started in the spring of '14. I had been suffering for a few days from asthma, all being caused by the change of climate and pollination going around at the time. I had already cheated death a few years ago when my airways were too tight, and, well the air stopped going into my lungs. The doctors say my heart stopped for at least a minute. My mother was in a fight with the nurse about me struggling to breathe just as it happened - the nurse was trying to assure her that I was perfectly fine and I was getting enough air through my shitty, slowly narrowing throat. I'm surprised my mum didn't slap her in the moment, but if the nurse hadn't grabbed the cannula in time I probably wouldn't be here writing this.

I was coughing a lot, and after getting x-Ray's we realised that my chest was full of mucus. It was on the point of congestion. We tried all the methods they had suggested with no prevail. One night I was in my room, watching whatever TV Show had caught my utmost attention at the time. Head up, the humidifier at hand for whenever I felt weary, and a hot pack on my neck and chest.

Then, without any warning, I started hyperventilating like I was blowing into a paper bag. My words came out in wheezy huffs and puffs; I was in need of immediate medical attention. The ambulance arrived within 15 minutes, and off to the base hospital we went. Mum being an AO3 at the hospital under the drug and alcohol unit (AODS) meant that the process of getting me in and with medical service at hand was more than a priority.

After I almost stopped breathing for the second time and they had me under control, I was placed into a ward for them to keep an eye on me. It was 3am - nobody was awake in the ward at the time besides a girl in the bed next to me. She was on her phone, completely blind to the fact that I was just rushed in by a doctor, a nurse, and my mother. I questioned why she was in there. Sadly, before I could give it further thought the meds kicked in and I drifted to a hazy sleep, staring at the navy blue wall with dozens of silver stars painted on it.