The last thing I remember before it went dark; white. A semi blinding light. But it didn't hurt...it felt nice, almost. As if I was floating through the air, rocking back and forth as though I was a leaf being rocked with a gentle breeze. A gust of wind blew my leaf closer to the surface. My right side dipped, then my left. Over and over again until I broke the surface like someone clawing for air. I would have preferred it if the ending never came, but, of course, it came all too soon.
I could tell it wasn't deep enough. Voices. My moms' voice, I could hear her yelling to call 911 but her voice got fainter by the millisecond. And that's when it went black.
I opened my eyes and quickly shut them again. The light in the room blinding compared to the darkness my eyelids gave. Everything was so white, so familiar, yet the feeling wasn't there. I opened my eyes slowly, quickly adjusting to the blinding whiteness.
I glanced around the room, and immediately recongnized the place. I knew the drill, soon the nurses would be in to check on me, ask me if I wanted something, give me medicine so the Tourettes wouldn't mess up wires and hurt me any further. Then the doctor would come in, ask me how I was feeling.
Cue nurses.
"How are you feeling Tevin?"
"Well, besides the disappoint of being here, I'm fine."
"Well, Tevin, all I can say is God has a reason for everything."
"Oh? God did this? He can suck my...I mean, of course. He gave me all these problems because he knew I could handle it." The nurses always insisted that God put through this for a reason. I was not a very religious person. Not since the doctors visit that started them all.
"That's the spirit Tevin." Same nurses every time.
I just stare at her and wait for the next question. When I didn't get it right away, I answer it, "No, thanks, I don't need any pillows, any food, anything to drink, and no I don't need to go to the bathroom."
She smiles sadly at me, "Know the drill, don't you?"
"Well, it's only my, what? Seventh time here?"
"I'm just going to put some medicine in the IV bag so your Tourettes won't mess up wires." I say at the same time as her while staring at the ceiling. Then, "Doctor will be in shortly." I tell her with a small smile and a glance.
"Thanks for the update, Tevin."
I give a small nod. I lay back against the pillows and watch her exit the room. I close my eyes and try to recall that white light, that white, good feeling. I can almost feel it. This time, it's as if I'm floating in the ocean, the water lapping at my skin. The sun beating down on me, keeping me quite warm. The cool of the water and the heat of the sun make the perfect balance. The perfect scenario. Floating alone and never coming across another soul. Bliss.
There's a knock on the open door, interupting my perfect moment. It doesn't startle me, though, it's routine.
I sigh and open my eyes, "What?"
The doctor comes in looking at his clipboard, taping his pen against it. Shaking his head, making that little, tsk tsk, sound he makes. "Tevin, do we need to raise your dosage?"
"No."
"Have you even been taking your medicine?"
If he had asked me a few years ago I would've busted out laughing at the expression on his face. Instead, I looked him in the eyes, grinded my teeth a little thinking over my options and decide to go with the wise ass response, "Yes."
"Tevin, if you were taking your medicine, you wouldn't have done that."
"I am taking my medicine, ask my mom, she makes me take the Tourettes dose everyday."
The doctor almost swore, "Tevin. I meant the anti-depressants." I saw his mouth clench and unclench a few times.
"Doctor Smith. I meant the Tourettes medicine." I clench my mouth then smirked at him.
Then he didn't hold back, "Dammit, Tevin, being a smart ass isn't going to help at all. Why can't you take the damn medicine like everybody else?"
Wrong words. I stared at his hip, then realizing it belonged to him; I stared at the ground.
"Well, Tevin, I'll try again tomorrow. Please, Tevin. Try."
I continued to stare at the floor. When he reached the door I opened my mouth, "Close the door." Doctor Smiths' expression of excitement fell when he heard my words.
He doesn't regret his words. He doesn't care about you as a person. He just wants you to stop coming to the hospital, just wants you to get out of his hair.
The words ran through my mind over and over again. I bit my lip, You're a wimp if you cry. Don't cry, baby. Baby. I bit harder, blood seeped little by little into my mouth. Slowly, I forced myself to let go of my lip.
And with those sentences running through my mind I fell into a fitful sleep.
