The Difference Between Vulnerability And Desolation Is Fear | Aphmau AU

Seven/Seventeen

The 27th of October, Friday, 2017.

It lasted an entire day, and when it finally wore off, I was hungry, tired, and thirsty, my hearing wasn't working very much, and I felt absolutely terrible. No amount of antidepressant helped.
   A paramedic was sent over to stabilise me when it started, gave my doctor some tips, took my dad's money, and then left. After that I kept on vibrating for a full day. I couldn't be fed even through a tube, I couldn't drink, I couldn't control myself, my heart wouldn't stop beating fast, I couldn't sleep, or even think straight. The doctor managed to identify why, though = not enough oxygen and stress. Of course my mask was put on straight after he found out this.
   "Water!" I begged, crying. I was given it, and then I was allowed food. Of course, it was a liquid food that was injected into me, but food nonetheless. When my doctor saw I was calming down, he gave my dad tips to look after me, then also left because he'd been awake for far over a day.
   The only person who didn't leave was my dad. He kept the armchair right next to the bed, helped my lay down safely, then sat down in it and held my hand, holding it as if he didn't want to let go. I didn't complain though, and instead fell asleep holding it back.
   When I woke up he was still holding on. He was asleep, but he had eye bags so I guessed he had been awake for even longer and only just fell asleep. His head was rested on our holding hands, a small tear stain on his cheek. At that moment the only thing I felt was pity for him. I realized how emotionally scarring this would have been for him. Sure, he didn't care in the slightest about me in the past, but now he looked as if every waking hour was worry and also hope. His son, no matter how disappointing, was dying. Being cured, but also dying.
   There was something I was told when my dad and I were talking, and that was about my life span being shorter. My heart was much weaker than before, and always would be. My life wasn't actually shortened by much, but instead by ten years. This hurt me. Nothing had happened to Aphmau and she was only mentally sick, her life span the exact same to what she was like before everything happened. I'd die ten years before her, but that was only if we died from old age.
   I smiled at him, and looked around the room to see the TV my mom talked about was on the dresser, making me roll my eyes yet smile. Dad stirred a little since my hands suddenly twitched. They did it when I was awake, as it was an after effect of the seizure - the doctor warned me before he left about all of the side effects.
   He quickly sat up straight and rubbed his eyes. "Hmm?" He looked at me and noticed the mask had slid off my face, which I didn't notice, and put it back on.
   "Thanks." I mumbled.
   He smiled weakly for a split second, then stood up. "Hungry?"
   "Very." 
   "Alright. You want some coffee too?"
   I instantly nodded because I had been without it for a year. "Please!" Chucking, he left, nodding.
   Mom walked in about a minute later and straight over to me. "How are you doing?"
   "Fine now. I'm not in pain."
   She smiled and kissed my forehead. "Good!"
   Trying not to blush, I tried to change the subject. "Uh... Can I sit up please?"
   "Yep!" She propped up my pillows and then helped me sit up straight then looked around, nothing to say.
   "...When can I have a shower or something?" I asked to break the awkwardness a little.
   She thought a little then shrugged. "I suppose when your body is fully working or something." She had a look at my messy and greasy hair, biting her lip. "Although I guess that I can try to wash your hair later, after physical therapy, if you want me too."
   "Would you mind?" I ask nervously.
   "Not at all." She said as dad walked in with our breakfast and coffee.