Honey Suckle

Part 14

I ran to to the hospital as fast as I could. My feet and began to blister and turn red because I didn't have any shoes on. The hospital was filled with many soldiers, even tho most have them had already gone back to their families or to fight. This time their was a different nurse at the front desk, she was older and had grayish colored hair.  I ran to her "Christopher Palmer. He's having an episode! He's shaking and talking to himself! We've tried to calm him but we don't know how!" I cried out. 

She nodded "Nancy!" She called out to another nurse. "There's an issue with a Mr. Christopher Palmer!" She had a very loud and thick Italian accent that most people in Virginia didn't have. I short blond nurse came out and I lead her into the direction of our home. She walked quickly toward the house. 

When we got there Elizabeth was holding on tightly to Christopher's hand. He was still shaking but he wasn't muttering quite as much as he had been before. "Helen." She said realizing we were there. Nancy told us to go up stairs, she said it would be easier if we're here. I walked Elizabeth upstairs to my room and she sat down on my bed. "Is he going to be alright?" She asked.

I nodded. "I think so. Nancy will figure out what's wrong with him." I said and sat next to Elizabeth on my bed. I didn't realize until that very moment how much I cared for Christopher, it only took thinking someone would leave you to realize how much you really want for them to stay.

The next few moments were silent and gloomy. We just waited for Nancy to walk up those stairs, and tell us he was alright. When she did Elizabeth was so relieved that she ran over to Nancy, which you could tell annoyed Nancy. "Sometimes soldiers come back home to there families, but they aren't always themselves. Some carry their war trauma around like luggage, and they can have flashbacks and nightmares. Your friend just had an episode." She said.

"What do we do if it happens again?" I asked. 

"Practice breathing exercises, talk to him in short simple sentences, and don't worry. Worrying can only make it worse. If that doesn't work come ad get me." She said heading for the door. 

When we went downstairs Christopher was lying on the sofa, in a sweat. "It was so horrible. I didn't know if I would live or die. I didn't know if I would ever see my mama again." He spoke slowly and quietly. You could tell he was hurting and he had been very scared. 

"Have you seen her yet?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I've been way to nervous to write to her. She doesn't know I lost my arm." He said.

Elizabeth stood beside me looking at poor Christopher. "You should write I'm sure she'd very be happy to hear from you. She's probably worried sick." Elizabeth said.

He nodded and asked if he could borrow a piece of clean parchment paper and something to write with. I went upstairs to my room, and fetched everything he'd need to write to his mother. When I got back downstairs Elizabeth had moved Christopher to the kitchen table so he could write. "What do I say?" He asked.

"You could tell her that you're safe in Virginia with us, and that you miss her." Elizabeth suggested. Elizabeth patted Christopher gently on his back, as he began to write. When he was done he carefully folded the parchment in half, placed it in a envelope, and stamped in shut. I knew he hadn't told his mother what he had lost in the war because that's not something you put into writing, and it would just be better if she just saw it for herself.