Twenty Four Days And Counting

Twenty-Four Days And Counting

Day One

I open my eyes. I am lying in a bed. The walls are bleached white and a scent of disinfectant makes me gag. Choking on the stench, I slowly sit up. Taking deep breaths, I fill my lungs with air and take in my surroundings. In front of me is a white curtain, concealing me from what lies behind it. I glance to my right. I can see a pair of shoes lying on the floor. On my left, is a small, white table, with a silver bowl on top of it. Wherever I am, the people here must like the colour white.

A sudden thought strikes my head. What if I'm in heaven? Looking down at my arms, I see a narrow tube attached to my left arm, just above the crease where my elbow is, pressured down by a square of white tape. My finger traces the tube, and then I realize it leads to my nose. Touching my nose, I feel two nubbins pushed into my nostrils. I frown. If I'm not in heaven, then where am I?

Suddenly, I see the curtain being drawn back. My eyes widen and my hands begin to tremble. Panic overtakes my brain as I watch a hand pull the curtain around in a circle. I can now see adults dressed in blue tunics and the same colour trousers. A couple of the men have stethoscopes drooping from their necks and women are jotting down words on clipboards.

I see two people dressed from head to toe in jade-green carrying a stretcher, one at either end. A boy lies on the stretcher, moaning in pain. I can see that his left ankle is twisted slightly out of shape. What I presume is his Mother is walking beside him, telling him it's going to be alright, but I can see that her hands are shaking with anxiety as well.

And suddenly, the green people with the stretcher are gone and a man wearing a white coat draped over a turquoise outfit is standing beside me.

"I should think your Mother will be pleased to hear you've woken up," he says. I shrug my shoulders and lean my back against the wall. The man frowns.

"Well, just so you know, I'm Dr Fitzgerald and I will be your doctor today," he continues. I thought I heard him say something under his breath, but when I turn my head, his lips and pressed firmly together.

"Do you know why you're here, Sophy?" Dr Fitzgerald asks me. My mouth drops open. He knows my name. Closing my mouth, I thought about his question. I barely know where I am, let alone why I'm here. I shake my head, whilst thinking of possible solutions as to why I might've ended up on a bed in the Land of the White.

"Well, you have been admitted to the SLCK ward," Dr Fitzgerald informs me. My stomach churns. What does that stand for?

"I suppose you're wondering what those letter mean," Dr Fitzgerald says. I nod furiously. He smiled, almost sympathetically.

"The SLCK ward is the Short Lives of Cancer Kids ward," he tells me. My heart plummets. Suddenly, a sick feeling rises up my throat. Gagging, I bend my head over the side of the bed and vomit onto the floor. After that, I see nothing. Just darkness.

Day Two

I twist a strand of my hair around my finger. After I blacked out, I was wheeled to the SLCK ward. I am now lying comfortably on a bed with a lilac duvet. There are many other kids in this ward. I don't think any of them are my age. They're either too old or too young.

I pull the strand of hair off my finger, leaving it dangling in mid air, in a slight curling formation. I look up and eye the other children. A girl with a bald head sits, propped up on her bed, reading a Harry Potter novel. From this distance, I cannot tell which one it is.

I glance sideways, and see a girl around the age of six playing with two Barbie dolls. She must be the youngest here. Suddenly, anger bubbles inside of me. How could her parents leave her alone in this ward with nothing to play with but two unrealistic dolls made of plastic? The girl still has her hair, but it's short, and I can tell that it was longer.