"Behind you are the challenges you've met. Before you lies new possibilities."
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The Clean Slate Rehabilitation Center was built in 1873, but despite being old, it was lavishly built. High brick walls reach up seven floors, and wooden pillars rise up on top of a similarly wooden porch, complete with wooden rocking chairs and small tables in between. No one was sitting out today, I deduced that it was way too hot for anyone to be sitting outside as I wipe the sweat from my forehead with my shirt.
Stepping up the two short steps to the Center, I slowly open the door, which let out a small ring as I entered. Ahead of me, a woman looks up at me from behind a desk and smiles. When she stands, I can see that she is slightly heavier than other women, but she carries a happy attitude in her eyes. I approach the desk and place my hands on the edge to steady myself.
"Hello, Mr. Hirsch. The Doctor will be with you in a moment." she smiles.
"How do you know my name?"
"Someone called us. I think her name was Noelle?" she says curiously.
So she does care, I think to myself. I mean, I can tell she cared when she was basically crying when walking out the door, but she cared enough to even tell them I was coming.
"Mr. Hirsch?" the woman says, bringing me back to the unsteady floor beneath me. "You can have a seat over there," she points towards a small sitting area, where a fan is oscillating, giving cool refuge from the heat. "You look a bit dehydrated. We'll try to find you a room, and you can talk to the doctor when you're feeling a little better."
That same soft smile again. It makes me feel I actually have a chance. It makes me feel like I can get better. The seat is a soft fabric underneath me, and I see another nurse approaching with a gurney as I take my seat. The rest is a blur until I feel my weight upon a soft surface and the quick murmurings of people around me, working fast and quiet, sticking me with needles as I quickly pass out.
~~💉💉💉~~
The room looked like a small cabin. A heater that looked like a fire was set up in the corner, an oscillating fan in the other. The floors were a deep brown with hints of red within its knots. A small TV was set up high on the wall, and below it was a small shelf that housed the cable box, along with a few books neatly stacked together. The hospital bed I was lying in stood out among the tiny room. An IV is sticking into my arm, the tube leading up to the holder where a saline solution is being dripped into my system.
A small remote is connected to my bed by a cord that forces it to stay in place. I press the small nurse icon located on the top of the remote in red, and shortly thereafter quick footsteps can be heard down the hall. Someone gives a soft three knocks before entering my room, and I recognize the same kind smile from when I entered this place.
