Him For Her.

The Hospital

On the day that I had smacked Carter Mendoza across his face, I ended up vomiting in the bathroom for the most of the following class period. After I stormed out of my second period classroom, I went to the bathroom, and while I was originally thinking that I was going to spray some water on my face then leave... I started to feel this immediately hardcore gurgling coming up from my stomach. I hadn't felt anything until I got to that bathroom, but I know my body more than I know anything else. And, that day, my body was telling me to drop it like it's hot, only this time over a toilet seat.

I stood in front of one of the mirrors in the bathroom, trying to look as if I wasn't crying before,  and that I wasn't furiously angry still. Which to no surprise didn't work, but it didn't matter anyway. Because the next second, I could feel yesterday's barely anything meal coming back up, so I flipped around to an empty stall and... I think you can figure out the rest. Everything that seemed to have stuck around in my system had spilled out of my mouth like a foul smelling/looking waterfall. I was puking and it was a heavily shooting itself out. As always, it was absolutely disgusting, and after I knew I'd be entirely embarrassed. But, when everything had finally left, I still felt really nauseous, so instead of even attempting to stand back up on my own. I called my mom to tell her that I was stuck in the bathroom and I wasn't able to get up... The room was spinning and my head was starting to hurt.

I must have sat there for a little bit under an hour with nothing and no reply. I was almost unable to move at all. Until finally, I did get a returning text message from my mom that read:
Mom: "Which bathroom are you in?" I read it as my vision blurred around the corners of my eyes and with the little strength that I had I texted her back...
Me: "Orange locker," I told her, all the while, I knew that was all I would have had to tell, as she has known my school inside, and out since my Freshmen year.

My school was an indoor/outdoor school. Lockers, classrooms on the inside, no gates or fences, cafeteria, blacktop, track on the the outside. You can come and go as you please.
We have different sets of lockers... There's four hallways on each floor, two floors, four hallways... Or better yet, explained, for One hallway, in four directions that connect with other hallways with four directions... Each direction has a different color set of lockers. Each end on the hall has a bathroom. I was across campus from my next class, in the bathroom near the door that leads into the Gym and right outside of an orange set of lockers.

My mom and some paramedics rushed in while I was slowly decomposing and reducing myself to nothing. And, as if vomiting last week's whole menu had not been embarrassing enough, I also had to endure the fact that my mom had called another ambulance, so literally I had to be escorted through the halls on a gurney to be displayed as the "sick kid" for the entire school.

After that, It wasn't long before I was rolled into the hospital, as sick as a dog. Weaker than a common wall mouse. I couldn't help, but to just hate all of it... The flashing lights, the worried mother, the cold hands who touch every sensitive part of your upper torso, everything. If only these kind men and women in scrubs and white jackets could just put me out of my misery already. I would have surely been appreciative of that. Unfortunately though, that is not how the hospital system works, so instead I went through almost the same process as last time. Testing, sedatives, nausea medications, cold hands in gloves, and warm blankets fresh from the dryer.

To be perfectly honest, this last time that I had spent in the ER, I spaced out on almost everything that happened in the first 24 hours. The first thing that I could really remember was waking up to an intense sore pain in my back, neck, and ribs. I woke up in the dark, but it took no time for me to find my mother and my two brothers. They were all asleep beside my bed, all cuddled up on a recliner chair. I thought it best to let them sleep, so I tried not to wake them. I looked around for my phone instead. I wouldn't doubt that they turned off my phone because it was blowing up with my text notification ringtone.

Of course, Needless to say, I was right about the ringtone thing. I found that my phone had been sitting on table next to me, right next to my mom's purse. When I got a hold of it, I turned it on to see I had over 37 text messages and 11 calls. All 37 texts were from Mindy, 4 calls from Anthony, 1 call from Al, and 6 calls from Tristan. Although, I expected that I'd get a lot of noise from my friends, finding all the texts were from Mindy had surprised me a bit. But, of course, it shouldn't have, knowing how Mindy is... I scrolled through a few of them and quickly I realized that each one contained:
Mindy: "Where are you?"
Mindy: "Heard the ambulance."
Mindy: "Are you okay?"
Mindy: "Are you alright?"
Mindy: "How are you doing?"
Mindy: "Tristan has been calling you."
Mindy: "How's it going?"
And from there, it just went on... And on... And on.
I got a lot of calls from my friends, especially Tristan. Which was enough of a surprise on its own, that I even got calls from him, but I also got a voice mail from him as well as the phone calls.
It was pretty cute to hear his awkward and shy stutters in recorded message, though. 

The week passed by slowly with check ups, pain on a scale of 1-10 tests, suggestions that haven't worked in the past, scans that have already been done, ex rays put on file, and a lot of news watching on tv. It all sucked, I hated it, my mother kept pushing me to be positive, but the only time I could be happy was when I got to finally go home. I had spent only a week there, but with how slow time moves while on the inside... I was surprised I didn't step in with a sunburn and walk out with hypothermia. Hospitals are ridiculous like that. I mean, I know they're there to help, but time in there does not move. Which makes it ridiculous.