“Don’t panic, honey. The nurse is trying to wake you up so they can take the tube out of your throat. I promise it’s going to be alright.” A female’s voice resonates in my head.
A warm hand is rubbing my shoulder again. That soft voice continuously reassuring me that I am ok and telling me not to panic. I try to take deep breaths but I still can’t breathe right.
“Shhhhh, it’s ok, honey. I promise you.” It’s hard to stay calm like this. Another warm hand slides in mine, helping me be more at ease.
I dare to open my eyes; her face is looking at me.
“It’s Emma, honey. I’m here to help you stay calm. If you start panicking, they’re going to have to sedate you again for your own safety. Blink if you can hear me.”
I blink. It’s taking me everything I have to remain calm.
One of my biggest fears is being restrained, being trapped, unable to escape. So much of my life has been spent that way. Almost never being in control of my own circumstances.
I hate it.
Deep breath, Maya. Just breathe. You CAN breathe. You can get through this.My feeble reassurance to myself does little to ease the raging sea of anxiety flowing through my veins, but I try to stay still, holding in the panic.
Stay still. Relax. You can do this, Maya.Another deep breath in and out and my racing heart slows just a little. I have years of practice holding back on my fight or flight responses.
I don’t want to be put under again.
I relax, turning my fingers to grip the hand that’s holding mine. My body relaxes, the beeping of the machine monitoring my heart rate slowing.
“There you go, just relax. It’s going to be ok,” the nurse reassures me as she disconnects one of the tubes and puts something on the end of it. She explains to me if I can stay breathing on my own for a little while, they can take the tube out.
Once again, I am waking up and wishing the world would just swallow me whole. I’m just a constant burden on society, lying here in a hospital bed when I should be lying on the bottom of the river.
Tears streak down my face with the pain and anger of being forced to survive against my will. There’s no winning hands in the cards life dealt me. I’m the worthless joke that everyone discards in favor of holding the more valuable rank.
I fight back a sob as Emma strokes her fingers through my hair. She shouldn’t have to be here with me. She should be somewhere doing what she enjoys.
We sit in silence for what seems like a long time. I can’t bear to look at her, so I stare at the clock. 12:21 p.m. I wonder what day it is. Not that it matters, I just want to know how long I’ve been here.
It was Sunday evening when everything went down. I wonder if anyone even bothered to look for me after theexplosion. Maybe they’ll assume I was blown to smithereens. I hope so anyway.
The hospital eventually pulled the tube out of my throat. I developed severe inflammation and an infection from bacteria in the water. The nurse said I was out for three days to help my body recover.
Ethan stopped by to talk to the doctor. He told them they had a doctor who would manage my care at home, so they discharged me. I didn’t have the energy to argue.
I let them put me in a wheelchair and take me outside where there was a black SUV with tinted windows waiting. It reminded me of one of those vehicles you see on TV—the ones that people who don’t want to be seen by the public ride in.
As if my humiliation couldn’t get any worse, Ethan insisted carrying me to the room I was previously staying in. It’s been transformed into a makeshift hospital room, but with a much cozier bed.
Emma brought me some pills and a bowl of warm, homemade chicken noodle soup. It’s the most delicious soup I think I’ve ever had. It was so soothing on my aching throat.
“Here are the meds Dr. Bennett ordered for you to take. You’ll need to take them for a few more days. Sip slowly on the soup, dear. I don’t want it to upset your stomach. Hit this buzzer if you need anything,” she said before heading back to the kitchen.
I wanted to call her back in right away to thank her for everything she has done for me so far, but I couldn’t bringmyself to do it. I haven’t said a word to anyone yet. My mind and body are so mentally and physically drained. All I can do is lie here and stare out the window.
I had so many dreams of my mom while I was under sedation. It’s too bad I couldn’t stay in the dreamlike state. I miss Mama so much it physically
hurts my heart.
I would give anything in this world to hear her laugh or to say my name. Mama was my best friend.
I get so jealous and angry with people who still have their moms, especially when they get to grow old with them. It’s not right that I have to live the rest of my life without mine.
Tears roll down my cheeks, each droplet staining the pillow under my head with liquified pieces of my shattered heart. My hands cling tightly, holding it firmly to my face as violent, uncontrollable sobs wrack my body.
