Chronically Me

Chapter Two

It had been 48 hours since my surgery and I was pulling my hair out with boredom. My parents only came to visit for a few hours in the evening due to work commitments, and all the patients in the beds around me were elderly and spent most of their time asleep.

I'd had the tube removed from my nose, but I still hadn't passed my first stool and had been experiencing sharp pains in my abdomen. However, the nurse had said not to worry, that everything I was experiencing was completely normal. I'd gone for a short walk around the hospital for the second day in a row, with the help of my nurse. The doctor says the more mobile I am the quicker I'll recover. I was still weak, but it felt good to stand, even if the pain in my abdomen was unbearable at times. When my parents came to visit that evening, they brought me some more books and my iPad with several new films loaded on to it. The first few times I was hospitalised when I was a teenager, I had a panic attack every time my parents had to leave, but now I'd become accustomed to being on my own. I had also learnt to deal with my anxiety better.

It was approximately 10PM and I had just begun to drift off to sleep when the arrival of a new patient on the ward caused me to stir. He was transferred to the empty bed beside me. He was around my age, and extremely handsome. Even though he was in a hospital gown and his dark hair was stuck up in all directions I couldn't take my eyes off him.

Once he was settled, his beautiful blue eyes locked onto mine and I realised I was staring. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he said with a wink, nodding towards my abdomen.

Initially I thought he was asking to see my 'private area', but quickly realised he was referring to my surgical wound.

Even though the lighting in the room was low, I'm sure he saw my cheeks glow red as I could certainly feel the heat spreading across my face. I instantly averted my eyes from his, staring up at the ceiling instead.

"I-I-I..." I stuttered, not knowing how to reply. I didn't want to show him my scar because that would mean revealing my clear stoma bag, which could have had anything in it. Shit, puss, blood, at this point, while the wound was still fresh, I could be discharging all kinds of bodily fluids. I refused to even show my parents the bag, and I know they have seen many of my bodily fluids in the past.

"Relax, I'm joking," he said. I looked over to him momentarily and saw he was watching me with a lop-sided smile spread across his face. "I'm actually pretty squeamish, I'm scared to look at my stitches."

"You definitely don't want to see mine then," I said, continuing to stare up at the ceiling, still feeling slightly flushed from his previous comment.

"Yeah, I probably don't," he chucked to himself. Even though I know he was completely unaware of what was underneath my shirt, it still made me feel undesirable. It struck a nerve in a way I didn't think was possible. The stoma bag was meant to give me back my freedom and increase my confidence, but I couldn't stop the thought of no man ever wanting to touch me because of it, slip into my mind.

"I'm Harry, by the way".

When I looked towards him again, the same lop-sided smile from before was still spread across his face. He had a small dimple on his right cheek, and I couldn't help but think how handsome he looked. When I had been in hospital previously, I'd never encountered anyone my age. On the children's ward everyone was always much younger than me and then once I was eighteen, I was always surrounded by the elderly. I couldn't decide what I'd done to deserve someone relatable for once.

"I'm Clara," I whispered with a small smile, connecting my eyes with his. I was searching for any indication as to why he was here and why he was talking to me, but I found nothing. No curiosity, malice or desire. His eyes were just warm and genuine. After several moments I looked away, confused by the emotions he was displaying.