The Parasite

2: Infected

The ride home was an absolute nightmare.

Every scrap of optimism I might have had left was thrown out the window. Luckily my mom had the forethought to give me a bucket and let me lay across the pull-out sofa in the trailer, but that by no means helped ease the misery the ride brought. Every bump and turn, my pounding headache flared up again, and up would come whatever water I had managed to drink. It was a constant pattern: a view of the trailer, the feeling of the trailer going over a bump, and back down to a beautiful scenic view of the inside of a bucket. I swear I had memorized every detail of the inside of that bucket.

It took nearly four hours with my dad pushing the speed limit to get to the hospital in Atlanta. Luckily we hit very little traffic, cruising on the empty highway and barely encountering a single car--that is till we got to the city. Then it was an absolute standstill.
I lay sprawled on the pullout sofa, head hanging over the bucket, one arm dangling over the edge of the sofa, while my dad howled and cursed in the truck. I groaned, willing my stomach and head to simmer down just until we broke free of the traffic and reached salvation. Maybe if I blocked out all the sound and light it would ease the pain.
I rolled over and tugged my hood down over my eyes and pulled the pillow over my face. The darkness brought a wave of relaxation over me, and I let out a long relieved breath. It was like a sensory overload out there, too much information being crammed into my brain at once. The cool surface of the pillow against my face felt so nice, a welcomed relief against the previous heat brought on by the migraine.
I knew I could rule out dehydration, and the only thing I could think of was that the god awful virus was raging inside of my at the moment, and my immune system was having a hay-day.

It took another hour to get through the traffic before we finally reached the hospital. Mom helped me out of the trailer, handing me her sunglasses. I put them on and instantly my headache and the burning behind my eyes went down.
Dad waved goodbye, worry swimming in his eyes, before he pulled the truck and trailer away. He was going to take the kids to the nearby mall while they waited for us in order to keep Alex and Carter entertained.
Mom helped me –a shaky-kneed mess– up the walkway and through the sliding glass doors of the ER.
A rush of scents bombarded me as we entered, as well as a blast of frigid air. There was the familiar musty smell of sickness, nostril burning bleach and antiseptic, rubbing alcohol, the whole nine. It was too much and made me want to hold my breath.
Mom led me to a chair in the waiting room and I sat down.
There were so many sounds too, far too many to focus on. The high pitched giggling of children rang in my ears, along with the low hum of the overworking AC through the vents above my head. I could hear my mom talking to the nurse at the checkin counter clearly, as if I was standing right next to her. That didn't make any sense.
I listened in on what the nurse and mom were talking about, since listening to the two five year olds across the room scream was not very pleasant.
"Are you sure ma'am? There's no evidence of a head injury?" The nurse asked in disbelief. She was a small girl, with a pixie cut and way too much bright red lipstick. The way she held herself reminded me of some delicate long necked bird.
My mom shook her head "no and that's why we're so worried."
The nurse seemed to get the idea and scribbled something down on her clipboard. I didn't like the way she looked up at me, even if it was a only a glance. There was something in her expression, some recognition in her eyes, that she had heard this before. I wasn't sure if I should be reassured by it, or worried.
"The doctor will see you right away, come with me." She stood up and mom waved for me to follow as the nurse opened the swinging doors that led out of the waiting room. This was my lucky day; I wouldn't have to deal with the screaming kids or the awful smell of sickness anymore. I got to my feet and adjusted my sunglasses, before following the two women into a long white hallway.
It was horribly bland, reeking of sterile antiseptic and an unnaturally clean smell that made me wrinkle my nose. Every hospital had that same trademark smell to cover up the scent of illness.
There were countless identical numbered doors, all exactly the same down this hall. It made me somewhat uneasy, so I stuck to Mom's side as we followed the nurse to the very end of the hallway. She opened the last door of the corridor for us and somewhat haughtily waited for us to enter.
'Sorry to waste your time, not like it's your job....' I thought, following mom into the room. I honestly didn't understand why I always seemed to get stuck with the medical staff who either hated their job or hated the patients. From the woman who didn't give me a warning before jamming a flu shot needle into my arm and acting annoyed when I nearly cried, to this very special nurse who turned her nose up at me as I walked into the office.
When I entered, I tried to forget the nurse and noticed it was the typical physicians room: just the generic off-white walls with medical diagrams and a labeled poster of the human brain hanging on the wall. Basically every single physicians office you have ever been in, this was it. If you'd seen one, you'd seen them all.
There was a small window at the far end, much to my annoyance. Luckily the sunglasses were helping my migraine or else I would have been on the floor in a tight ball from the sunlight trickling in.
While I hopped up to sit on the exam table, the cheap paper cover crinkling under me, the 'I'm-better-than-you-sick-peasants' nurse left us and disappeared into the hall. The door swung closed behind her. "Good riddance," I muttered.
"Blue!" My mom gasped. I got a prompt slap on the arm by my mother's quick hand for that.
"It's not my fault she's so haughty mom," I defended. Honestly the nurse had it coming. And I was not in the mood or physical condition to deal with people with lack of respect at the moment.
As I was inspecting the poster of the human brain next to my exam table on the wall, the door opened suddenly, making me jump. A short, white haired man in an even whiter coat stepped in with a clipboard in the crook of his arm, a bright but forced smile tugging at his features. "Hello, you must be Erin," he said in a very friendly voice.
I refrained from correcting him that I went by my middle name, seeing it would only waste time and maybe make him go off on a tangent, maybe tell me grandchildren stories that weren't remotely relatable or relevant to my name. My head hurt too much already, so kept my mouth shut and instead forced my features to arrange a somewhat natural-looking polite smile. He seemed like the kind who liked to talk and get to know you, so I was going to keep my answers short and to the point. The Doctor's blue eyes perked up at the corners as he gave a welcoming grin "I'm Dr. Wells, nice to meet you Erin. Now," he glanced down at his clipboard, a look of concentration in his tired blue eyes. "you're experiencing headaches and nausea, correct?"
I nodded, then regretted it when a wave of aching overtook my head. "Yes sir,"
He nodded as if he had heard this a million times before, which made me lift an eyebrow. That probably meant this was something common going around, right? Which was a big relief. I felt a weight lift off my chest at the thought.
Dr. Wells set down his clipboard on the grey counter top and pulled a pen light from his pocket. "Well, I need to see your eyes okay?"
Seemed normal enough.
I shrugged and leaned forward on the edge of the exam table, taking off my sunglasses. Dr.Wells leaned close enough for me to smell a mix of aftershave and spearmint and notice the little wrinkles at the corner of his mouth and eyes, which meant he must have smiled a lot. His eyes didn't exactly match though, there was a somber, tired look in them.