What's a good night sleep, I don't know them. The constant beeping of machines screaming of the brain injured woman down the hall. She screams the same things all the time a different phrase each day of the week. Today's Thursday "Where is the door!? How do I open the door?! Is there a button or switch? I need the light!" she screams that for hours I'm not sure how anyone here expects us to get a decent nights sleep.
Those patients that have low stimulation rooms must have it pretty good. They're sound proof and quiet. Man I wish I could switch out to one of those. This rehabilitation center is an exceptional and unnormal one it takes in all sorts of disabled while most focus on one certain thing. It's annoying but yet breathtaking at the same time. Someone's discharge day is the equivalent to if you got a letter to hogwarts along with a magic lamp with 2 billion wishes. Okay maybe not that great.
But nothing seems better through any patients eyes.Or at least I thought.
My life has been beaten down to making the best of everything. I could still have that pain.
I never thought pain like that was even possible. I hoped my nerves would just die and numb up forever to leave me a soul in a never hatching cocoon. I think the issue was the cocoon survived but I never got the wings I had hoped for.
Instead big chunks of uncomfortable plastic.After about an hour of listening to the lady next door I decide there's no point in trying to sleep any longer. I reach for the cord with the small little button and like every morning with a groggy voice call to get someone to help me out of bed.
I throw the sheets off my body and flinch when I see the familiar sight.
It's still shocks me sometimes looking down at where flesh blood and bones used to be.
The scars are pretty much completely healed but ragged and red.
Only half of my femur is left. It still hurts.
Not like before but it still hurts. Inside and out.My painful train of thought is demolished when a short brown haired nurse walks inside.
"Hello I'm Travis I'll be your nurse for today! Ready for a transfer?" I nod glancing at his Nintendo themed lanyard.He helps me sit up and balance on my stub legs then slides the slab of wood under my butt.
"Okay on the count of three one, two, th.." with little help from me he slides me down the board right into the gel seat of the wheelchair.Something as simple as getting out of bed used to take me two seconds but now it takes me along with the help of someone else five minutes.
Just another little thing.
"Do you need me for anything else?" Travis asks placing the board on the bed and fastening me into the wheelchair. Being in a rehabilitation center means you get restrains the facility's can't risk any patient falling. It aggravates me everyday.
"Nope I think I'm fine for now thanks."
Travis disappears back into his busy work of scrambling back and forth with the patients well at least the ones that are awake at 4 am.
Like every morning I use the little arm strength I have in the morning to wheel myself to the cafeteria. It's more of a walk then I would like but at least it's on the same floor as my room.
Eventually I make it to the large room, it's too early for any food to be sold besides at vending machines. But it's good enough for me.
Rolling in the first thing I see is way better than a vending machine.
Way better.
A violet haired boy sitting alone drinking h.e.b orange juice.
A truly beautiful sight. Maybe even better than discharge day. . . Maybe.Awsten
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Amputate (Gawsten)
FanfictionAll is normal, at least what Geoff Wigington has gotten used to calling normal. A pair of prosthetics and a beautiful, broken violet haired boy with a lack of voice. Life is about to get a whole lot more interesting. . .even with a lack of legs and...