Have you ever wondered what would Michael Jackson's life look like if some events didn't happen to him? If he had someone he trusted by his side through everything? Someone that had the power to save him from his tormented life?
Hayley "Brit" Thame...
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The sound of my pager woke me up in in the early morning. I hated it. I hated when this happened because I was always scared I would have to reanimate one of the children, or send them to the OR without guarantee that they will come out of it alive.
I put my white smock on, clipped my badge on it, and ran outside the on-call room to the room B141. I ignored the fact that I just woke up and that my eyes were still sleepy, and barged into the room only to see a few nurses gathered around the little Tom, a seven-year-old who arrived a couple of days sooner. We discovered he had a brain tumor who caused him to have multiple epileptic seizures, and to make a full recovery, we needed to see the tumor, and see if it was operable.
"What happened?" I asked one of the nurse as I checked the child's vitals on the monitor.
"He has trouble breathing. We put the oxygen mask over his mouth, but nothing changed."
"Give him 0,5mg of Lorazepam," I instructed, as I focused on the little guy in front of me. "Tom, you need to calm down. we're taking care of you."
"Mommy," he only managed to say, and again I turned to one of the nurse.
"Where are his parents?"
"They left an hour or so ago to go get some clothes for him. I'm calling them," she nodded, and ran outside the room.
"Your parents will be there in a few, okay?" I reassured, putting my hand on his shoulder for comfort. He was calmer now, thanks to the medication we put in his IV. "Push the button if you don't feel any better," I said, as I turned around to leave the room as well.
However, I felt him pulling my smock, preventing me from moving any further. I looked down at him, and he had this look of terror in his eyes. He was terrified to be alone in a place he didn't know, and where he knew bad things could happen to him. Children understand more than most people can think.
"I'll stay with you until your parents arrive," I reassured him, and sat on the edge of his bed. Surprisingly, he took my hand in his little one, and I squeezed it gently to show him some support. "I'm scared," he almost whispered, with that same petrified look in his eyes.
"I know, bud. I am here to help you," I soothed, rubbing the back of his hand. "We're going to fight this little monster you have in you," I confidently said, referring to his tumor.
"Will it hurt?"
"The exams you'll have to go through today won't be painful. You're going to go in a kind of spaceship which is going to take pictures of the inside of your brain, and then we'll see what happens next thanks to the pictures," I explained, using simple words so that he could understand.
"Will I be able to see the pictures? Will Marcus be visible on it?"
"Who is Marcus?" I asked with a slight frown. "Did you name your tumor Marcus?"
