Chapter 18: Panicked Dream

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Chapter 18: Panicked Dream

I hear Matthew leave for dinner. I fall into a deep sleep. I can’t help but dream about my experience today. I can’t get that guy’s face out of my head.

As I roll off of the van ramp this time, things are different. A gang comes right up to me. Someone pushes my chair right off of the curb and into oncoming traffic. They start pummelling me with rocks and garbage and dirty needles and who knows what else. Why is it that bad things always happen to good people? I start to lose consciousness when I am awoken by a loud BANG! It turns out that loud noise was me falling out of bed! Matthew is back in the room.

“Are you alright Melissa?”

“I think so. I had a bad dream. I was getting off the ramp like earlier today, only this time was different. It was a lot worse. A bunch of guys rushed me. They pushed me into the street into oncoming traffic. They were throwing things at me; rocks and garbage and needles and stuff. I’m scared Matthew,” I say.

“I think you need new meds,” Matthew jokes.

But maybe he’s right. Maybe my medication is the source of all of this delusional behaviour.

“You know what Matthew, you might actually be right,” I say.

“I was kidding Melissa,” he confirms.

“I know that but what if it really is the medication? What if they gave me the wrong dose or the wrong drugs?” I ask.

“I doubt it, they’re really careful with that kind of thing. When you say they, do you mean doctors at the hospital or the nurses here?” he asks.

“I don’t really know to be honest,” I admit.

“Well maybe you should talk to the nurses,” he suggests.

“Maybe,” I contemplate.

I decide Matthew is right. I transfer into my chair and roll out of the room. I go down the hall to the nurse’s station.

“Hello?” I call.

Two nurses are chatting in the corner of the small room. The older grey haired lady looks up. She walks towards me.

“What can we do for you today Melissa?” she asks in a cheerful manner.

“It’s my medication. I think I need a different dose. It’s making me feel really weird,” I try to explain.

“Well we can make an appointment with Dr. Burnstead if you’d like,” the nurse offers.

One of the policies at Crown City Rehab is that any medication changes or symptom questions must be dealt with through the patient’s own physician if possible. I technically don’t have a family physician, but because Dr. Burnstead was the one that did my amputation, he’s the one we need to talk to.

“Thanks,” I respond.

I return to my room and get ready for bed. I don’t sleep very well. I keep replaying the events from this morning in my head. They are much more violent than what really happened, but they keep waking me up. I glance over at the clock beside my bed when I wake up for the 6th time. 3:48 am. I realize that I’m not going to get any more sleep tonight, so I get a book and read.

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