This Isn't Real (Short Story)

This Isn't Real

This Isn't Real

Why do people always seem to think or even say 'This is not real' when something extraordinary happens? I guess it's how they try to cope, how they try to wrap their minds around the situation. And they can mean two completely different things. I mean think about it...

Parents sitting in a hospital emergency room after their son of twelve fell and hit his head during a football game. Sitting there, on the somewhat uncomfortable hospital chairs, with only the worst thoughts going through their heads, even though they won't admit it. You can see the worry on their face, even if they are as lifeless as me, you can see it in their eyes; they don't know what to do. Or they know they can't do anything to help; maybe that's a worse realization. All they can do is wait. Wait for a complete stranger to come out of an unfamiliar room and tell them how the surgery went on their son. I can see them, staring holes into the door they know the doctor will come out of. The wait is agony. They now know the hit was serious, but what they don't know is how serious. Feeling hungry, but can't eat. Feeling thirsty, but can't drink. Feeling tired, but can't sleep. All they can do is wait. The minutes tick past like hours. Their eyes darting from the door to the clock. One hour, two hours, three... The feeling of not knowing already makes them wonder if all this is real. They are already wishing it's not. Four hours. Four hours since they arrived in a frantic rush with their son bleeding from his head. Maybe letting him play football was a mistake; they think. Maybe if they let him play an instrument he wouldn't have been in this accident. But no matter how many 'maybe ifs' or 'what ifs' they run through their minds, it won't change the fact that they are here; in a hospital waiting for their son to come out of surgery. Five hours, six, seven... The doors open and the doctor comes out. She has the same neutral look on her face most doctors have. You can't tell if they saved a life or helped to dig the grave. The parents, grasping at straws, try and convince themselves one last time that their son is okay. They try to think it was just a little scratch or bump, but after seven hours in an operating room, that is unlikely to be the case. I can see them standing there with false smiles on their faces. The doctor holds the chart, and explains what happened, what was injured, what they did to help when all the parents really want to hear is, 'Your son is going to be okay'. After five minutes of just talking from the doctor I hear her say, 'Despite all this, we did everything we could. I'm sorry.' No words any parent should ever have to hear. Their smiles fall. Their minds cannot compute what they are hearing and all they can say is, 'This isn't real.' Trying desperately to understand, to justify, to simply just think. It's impossible. I suppose it is insane to think of how their day went. They probably got up, all smiles and excitement over the big game. And here we are, eight hours later and the boy is dead. They keep saying 'this isn't real' but unfortunately it is. This moment is real, this moment is the only sure thing in your life. This moment. I get it, they are trying to wake up from a dream they aren't having, longing to just jump back one day. But this is real.

At the hospital, people don't really take to me. I don't blame them. I have a kinda strange outlook on life. Am I a realist? I'd say so. I'm definitely not an optimist. That's probably why people think I'm a pessimist. But I have a fact-based outlook on life and I don't understand how anyone has a different outlook, it doesn't make sense. I get annoyed when people say 'I can feel it in my heart'. Um, no you can't! Your heart is purely there to pump blood through your body, and to provide your organs with oxygen. Why do people say that? People don't feel in their heart. No one ever has, no one ever will. You feel in your mind. I mean sure, I understand how there is a strange sensation in your chest or stomach when you receive good or bad news, but that isn't your heart. If anything, it's your brain pumping adrenaline through your system. I could carry on, but I think you get the idea. Probably why I'm single at twenty-nine without ever having had any kind of romantic relationship. Doubt I even have a half-decent relationship with my family. Anyway, to get back to my train of thought.