The Focus Effect

Twelve

When I wake up, I'm unsure of how long I've slept. I stretch and yawn lazily. But I'm cold and as I reach for a blanket that isn't there, the hazy moments from last night's experience begin to return. I was floating. Was it all a dream?

I open my eyes wearily. The black disc is tucked under my chin like a pillow. My bed is the ceiling and my world appears upside down. I'm still floating. The floor is a million miles away and in my disorientation, I let go of my anchor. Down I fall, wailing all the way to my inevitable conclusion. I land on the dining room table with a crash and a yowl. Blood gushes from my nose as I roll over onto my back. The wind is knocked from me and I'm not sure what hurts worse, the pain in my nose or the inability to breathe. Three guards pour into the house to investigate.

As my breath returns, they are frantic, machine guns drawn, ready to destroy any threat. "What's wrong?" one asks over and over again.

"Shut up!" I scream at him, covering my nose and trying to hide all the blood. "I'm fine. Get out of here!"

"Call for a doctor," I hear one of the guards say. As they depart, I look up at the black disc resting against the ceiling. I want to get it but the blood streaming down my face is too much to ignore. Using the tail of my shirt to help contain the mess, I rush to the upstairs bathroom. The image I see in the mirror is very disturbing. My nose is slanted at a crazy angle to the right. I don't think I've ever seen so much blood. My white shirt is completely crimson and I decide that the guards were right to call a doctor. I grab a towel, trying to stop the flow of blood while at the same time trying not to bring any more discomfort to my nose. Then I make my way to the Safe Room.

The clock above the TV says that it's ten minutes to eight, so when I push the call button and Kingshire answers, I'm not really surprised. He's told me before that if I call after hours that a guard or on-call doctor would likely answer. Kingshire tells me to have a seat in the chair and that someone is already on the way.

In less than a minute, there is a doctor with a young assistant giving me treatment. One of them gives me a shot of something that immediately makes me feel funny, if not a bit happy. The doctor asks his assistant to display the x rays of my nose. I'm not sure when x rays were taken, but while the assistant sets up a laptop, the doctor looks up my nose with a scope.

"Just need to take a quick look in here," he says as he lifts my chin up a little with his hand. "How did you do this, hon?" the doctor asks curiously. "Morning football game with the guards?"

"I fell asleep on the ceiling last night," I say, giving him a bloody smile. "I fell down when I woke up. Ker-plop." I realize there's little chance of him believing me in my current state, not that I currently care.

"Ookay," he says, "and the pain meds are working." He gives me a warm smile and says his name is Doctor Fish.

"Fishy, fishy," I giggle.

"Uh huh," Doctor Fish agrees. After a moment, he steps back as he tucks the scope into the front pocket of his jacket. "No septal hematoma. That's good."

"Why is that good?" I blink.

"It's good because that means there isn't blood accumulating under the cartilage of your nose. Sometimes that happens after an injury like this and exerts pressure on internal tissues. Left untreated, it can become infected, cause breathing problems, or even cause the nose to collapse."

"That is good!" I say jovially.

The doctor chuckles as his assistant tells him the x rays are ready. They appear on the TV and he turns to study it for a few moments. "You have a deviated septum," Doctor Fish points at the screen with a pen.