The Delicate.

     The room was cold and barren, leaving almost an empty sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I sat up on the edge of the table, knuckles white from gripping the corners so tightly. My eyes flitted around the room from the jar of cotton balls, throat swabs, and tongue compressors. The spattered tile floor looked cold and my bare feet arched up, fearing the touch. The IV pulled at my arm; I winced, but said nothing.

     I was just short of terrified, my heart beat racing in my ears. Ba bum Ba bum Ba bum.

     I looked at my mother, sitting in the chair across from me, squirming in the silence. She looked frazzled: exhausted eyes, unkempt hair, and saggy clothes. She had dressed for comfort, but had yet to receive any. 

     My lips were raw and chapped from the constant picking and chewing abuse I gave to them. I could taste the irony blood on my tongue. I coughed, the sound echoing off the four walls. The cold air wrapped its way up my spine, flowing in through the gaps in the back of the hospital gown. 

     It was all so normal for me, though. This unbearable silence, the pain of waiting for that door to swing open, the scary people with their diagnosis. I was sick again, this time I had came down with a case of pneumonia. I had already been in the hospital for nearly a week. I could still feel the phlegm vibrate in my lungs with every breath, painfully so. 

     Finally, there was a knock at the door followed by a turning knob and Dr. Costa stepping in. Her smile was bright and hopeful as she laid the clipboard down in the counter and took a seat in her usual rolly stool. I vaguely wondered if she'd ever been sick a day in her life. She always looked so happy, and friendly, and healthy.

     " How are we today? " Dr. Costa asked, looking between my mother and I- my mother trying to smile. 

     " Better than yesterday. " I shrugged, swallowing. My throat was still painful and dry. My voice came out ragged and broken. My mom handed me the bottle of water she had been holding for me, so I could take a drink. 

     " Your test results are pretty much clear, " she flipped over the papers attached to the clipboard, " and your blood work is looking a little better. Still not where I would like. " 

     There was an awkward silence that passed between us. We had been doing this dance for several years now. Dr. Costa glanced over at me, taking me in. 

     " I would like to talk to you about putting you on a new medication. " She stated. I frowned, resorting to chewing on my fingertips; my nails most gone. 

      " But she's already on some many, Dr. Costa. " My mom chimed in, concerned. 

      " I know. " The doctor nodded, agreeing. " But there is a new experimental- "

      " Experimental? No, I don't want Rose on something that hasn't been-" 

      " Ms. Cleary just hear me out. " Dr. Costa held up her hand for quiet. She looked at me again before speaking, " there is a new experimental drug that has just been approved. It has proven to drastically improve the symptoms of people like Rose here. Miraculous, almost. " 

     I looked at my mom, then the doctor again. 

     " The patients have said to have felt better, healthier, and even stronger immunity to common illnesses, like pneumonia. " She looked at me, pointedly. 

     " Mom, " I mumbled, warily. 

     " Rose may even be able to attend public high school, get a normal job, and hang out with her friends for the first time in over a decade. " Dr. Costa commented. I was already for this new medication the moment she mentioned the word normal. I wanted anything to be normal like everyone else.