Four years is a mere blink of an eye compared to a century.
Despite that,
You can forget a lot of things in four years.
You can get a college degree in four years.
You can make a lot of friends in four years.
But having to spend four years struggling to stay alive within a comatose state, four years to me almost feels like a century.
I'm still at the hospital preparing for my physical therapy. The doctor said it's gonna take at least 2 weeks to a month before I really start doing something rigorous.
I escaped the accident with broken ribs, fractured arms, legs, and my hip. They have long since healed but both my arms are now reinforced, which explain the stitch scars. As for my scooter, it was totally a wreck. And my case with the driving under influence had long been scratched as well; since 21 is the legal age, and the fact that the driver of the van was overspeeding, they favored my case.
From what I heard from my mom, the driver of the van already took responsibility but his license got revoked and he moved out of town months after.
Basically, I am now a 21 year old guy (going 22 in a few months), who is jobless, without a degree, and have metal alloys beneath his skin. Not really that promising of a future.
I went back to my hospital room after my daily tests.
The nurse who was in-charge of me followed suit.
Her name is Catherine from the name tag she was wearing. This is my third day after waking up. She took tests on the second day but we didn't have a conversation. I wasn't in the mood to talk after that shocking revelation. It is now the third day, and I needed a change of pace, since I can't stand having no one to talk to for the rest of my stay here. Mom also comes back late from work, so I'm probably asleep by the time she visits.
Anyways...
"Good morning, Mr. Fernandez.", she greeted.
I decided to change the pace and began a conversation.
"Please, cut the formalities, call me Carm. I think you're no older than me, if I'm not mistaken.", I told her.
She was surprised and replied, "Standard operating procedure."
"C'mon, just make an exception." , I insisted.
She nodded.
"Fine. Next time."
She smiled at me and then began taking my blood pressure.
"I guess, this is also standard operating procedure? I presume." I asked her.
"Yes, Mr. Fernandez." she said.
"Carm!", I insisted.
She rolled her eyes.
There was a moment of silence but I then asked her, "So, are you a registered nurse?"
"Not yet, I'm still studying.", she replied.
"I knew it! You're in my age group. I knew you were too young to be a registered nurse", I said.
The conversation went on, but had to stop since she had another patient to attend to.
"I'll see you later, Mr. Fernandez.", she said jokingly.
"Hahahaha. Catch you later. And its Carm, by the way.", I told her.
She nodded at me as she walking out the door.
It was my first conversation after such a long time. But then remembered Shiela and wondered how she is after all this time. As painful as what she did, I was still worried about her. I was probably so
worried that I fell asleep. I woke up roughly after three hours.
"That dream again, huh."
YOU ARE READING
Not So Perfect
Short Story"Smile. Even if the world doesn't favor in you doing it." Recovering from his injuries (emotionally and physically), Carm is forced to face reality. With the four years he is gone, how much did his surroundings change? Will the future still be brigh...
