Rules of a Rebel

Chapter 19: Don't Go to Hospitals

"You have a concussion," The doctor explains. "From the MRI scans, we discerned that it was a faint concussion, from over a few months ago. However, since you didn't get treatment, it wasn't properly healed and because of yesterday's incident, it became much worse."

"Are you telling me I had a concussion before this?" I ask, with a pointed look towards my mother, who still stubbornly refuses to glance my way.

The doctor nods. "For at least a few months. Is there anything you can think of that might have caused it? A few symptoms you might have experienced would be headaches, mood swings, a loss of balance, sleep or appetite."

Automatically, my mind flashes back to the day I first came here, when I nearly got run over by Archer's Audi. I don't have a concussion, I remember myself insisting afterwards.

I guess I was wrong.

Still, I don't want to bring attention to the incident or make Archer feel like this is his fault, so I just murmur. "No idea."

"Alright, that's fine," The doctor turns back to her computer. "Unfortunately, a concussion cannot be treated right away. With one such as yours, you'll have to take medication and have monthly check-ups. There are also some school activities that will have to change because of this, but we'll talk about that later."

"We've also signed you up for therapy." Mom adds.

Of course she did. No wonder she seemed so guilty before.

"That's strange. I didn't know you need therapy for a concussion." My voice is cold. I keep my eyes on the doctor, who looks distinctly uncomfortable.

"I thought it was for the best," Mom murmurs.

"I beg to differ." To my horror, the last two words of the sentence come out slurred. It's the concussion, I tell myself. Not me.

"It doesn't matter now," Mom sniffs, crossing her legs. If she didn't have the annoyed expression on her face, she would have looked like a model, with that business outfit and blank backdrop. "I've already signed you up. You'll be starting in January."

I can't believe you, I want to say, but the pounding in my head just becomes worse. So instead, I turn over on my side and lie down, fuming.

-()-

I have to stay overnight for examination, which means I miss one whole day of school. And although I love not having to go to classes, I would gladly go back if it meant not having to deal with the headaches and nausea all day.

And, since the doctor says I can't do anything that uses too much 'brain effort' on my part, I'm reduced to watching national geographic on TV and flipping through fashion magazines. Sometimes, I get dizzy and have to stop whatever I'm doing to lie down for a few minutes.

By noon, I'm in so much pain that I beg one of the nurses to give me another painkiller. She refuses and says that reducing my pain with artificial medicine isn't going to help me get better and that I should focus on praying instead.

So, instead, I steal some aspirins from her cart.

I think I take a higher dose than I'm supposed to because I'm so pleased with the way that my life is going recently that I happen to draw Archer a thank-you card, you know, since he saved my life and all.

It's a simple hamburger-folded piece of red (since that's his favorite color) paper. On the front, in my most formal writing, I've written Thank You except I suddenly got dizzy while crossing the T, so now there's a streak of blue marker across the paper.

On the inside, I drew a couple of animals with smiles on their faces. Unrealistic on the outside, sure, but I'm sure it represents their internal feelings of happiness. Especially the dog.