How Far We've Come

Chapter 13

Chaos broke out among the students and even a few shocked cries rang through the air. Questions filled my head and I wondered... wondered. What had happened? Mr. Rickman seemed fine on Friday, he even went to a meeting. How could he be fine on Friday and in the hospital only three days later?

Mr. Marvin held his hand up and the room felt silent. "I am sure everyone has many questions," he presumed. "But, we know little more than you right now. On Sunday afternoon, we received a call from the nearby hospital, telling us that Mr. Rickman had fallen unconscious. They are checking to see what the problem is, but they think it is an aneurysm."

Beside me, Clary gasped and put a hand over her mouth, shock evident in her eyes. I didn't know what to feel, for the simple reason that I didn't know what an aneurism was.

"What's an aneurysm?" I whispered to Clary. She whispered back that it was when an artery ruptured in the brain and caused internal bleeding. I gasped and she nodded, as I now understood the direness of the situation.

At the back of the room, Brett raised his hand. "What is his condition right now?" he asked.

Mr. Marvin sighed. "All we know is that he is unconscious and in the hospital. An aneurism is a very serious situation and takes a long time to recover from, especially an arterial one like Mr. Rickman's. We are hoping that Mr. Rickman will be back in April or so."

That was three months from now, and I hoped that their prediction was correct. That evening, I searched up what an aneurism was on Wikipedia, despite the fact that the Internet always makes everything worse. And in this scenario, it definitely did.

"As an aneurysm increases in size, the risk of rupture increases. A ruptured aneurysm can lead to bleeding and subsequent hypovolemic shock, leading to death. Aneurysms are a result of a weakened blood vessel wall... History: Many deaths have been caused by aneurysms, but the most well known death is that of the famous scientist, Albert Einstein..."

Every sentence confirmed and expanded on my fears. My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest as a million scenarios ran through my mind, each worse than the previous. The article listed deaths after deaths due to aneurysms, arterial ones being the most severe. And Mr. Rickman's artery had ruptured...

I let out a choked sob and put my head inside my hands. What if he didn't come back in April... or at all? No. I refused to let myself believe that he was going to die. He was strong, he would make it back. At dinner that night, I barely spoke a word. As someone who was always extremely talkative, this struck my parents as rather odd.

"Anasika? Are you okay?" asked my concerned mom.

I nodded. "It's just... You know how I told you Mr. Rickman's head hurt on Friday? Well, it's worse than we thought. He had an aneurysm."

The reactions of my parents was similar to that of Clary's. They understood by mood now. Within a few minutes I had finished by dinner and asked, "May I be excused?" They agreed.

I sat in my room for the rest of the evening, until I couldn't stand moping around anymore. I pulled out by drawer of old papers and looked through it, my eyes landing on a pink paper written by my old English teacher. I read through it until I saw a line, suggesting me to write a diary. A dairy... Isn't that what people did to get their feelings straight? I opened an old calligraphy journal and began writing.

Hi. My name is Anasika Grandle and I am almost fifteen years old. I got into Prestwall High School this year and I love it. The experiences have been amazing and so have the people...