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.
I don't really see what he's trying to show me. "It looks fine to me," I scoff.
"Well it isn't," he assures me. "Generally I'd wait a few days to work on your nose. However, in light of how fast your body heals, I'm going to straighten it up now."
He tells me that I'll feel a slight pinch from the localized anesthetic shot but I don't feel a thing when he gives it to me. Several minutes later, the doctor inserts a strange looking device into my nose that he calls a Boies elevator (Going up! I think, grinning stupidly). It feels and sounds like there's gravel inside my head when he moves my nose into place, but it doesn't hurt. There's just a lot of pressure and when he finishes with the tool, he works with his hands a little to straighten my nose further. When he's satisfied with the condition of my nose, he reclines my chair, but only slightly beyond the sitting position. "Can you grab me an ice-pack, David?" he asks his assistant.
The doctor places his hand on my arm and gives me another smile. "You're a real trooper, kid."
I realize for the first time that my doctor is very handsome. It would be a shame not to tell him. "You're a handsome fellow," I reply, my speech slightly slurred.
He laughs kindly. "Now I definitely know the pain meds are working."
His assistant, David, is much younger and just as easy on the eyes. He hands the doctor an ice-pack. The thought crosses my mind to tell this young man that he rivals Doctor Fish in his attractiveness but I decide to try to retain the little dignity I have. The goofy smile I give him, though, probably stripes me of it anyway.
Doctor Fish bends the ice-pack and I hear a pop. Then he gently places it on my forehead and nose. "I'll be back in the morning to check the swelling and to possibly take more x rays. No more football, Hannah," he jokes. "David here will be at your beck and call should you need anything."
I lift up the ice pack and give a curt nod to David. "Thank you for being my beck and call guy." I think David blushes, but I can't tell because he's suddenly busy tidying up.
I really don't remember much about the rest of that day. I was in and out of sleep for most it. I think Kingshire visited once for a few minutes and there wasn't much for David to do except monitor my vitals. At one point during the night when I finally began to feel clear-headed, I went out to check to see if the disc was still up against the ceiling. All I found was David asleep on the couch. The disc was gone.
When Doctor Fish shows up the next day he stands looking at me in disbelief.
"How do you feel?" he asks, gently touching around the edges of my nose and eyes.
I feel great and I tell him so.
"The swelling is completely gone. David, let's take another picture of her nose and see what we can see."
David taps a few keys on his laptop and a minute later an x ray is displayed on the screen.
The doctor shakes his head. "I just can't get over how fast your body heals. If I hadn't been the one to fix you up yesterday, I wouldn't believe what I'm seeing right now." Doctor Fish uses a pen to trace an area on the x ray of my nose. "Everything is pretty much where it should be. There may be some shifting of the cartilage over the next few days but I don't think so. It seems the bones have completely mended." He turns to face me. "You won't need to wear a brace. You still have some bruising but I think that should go away fairly quickly."
"The same thing that happened with my head after the lightning strike," I tell him.
He nods. "I was part of the initial team that worked on you when they first brought you here. So I'm not entirely surprised by what we're seeing with your nose. I am surprised, however, at the rate at which it has healed. I'd say that whatever metamorphosis your body is undergoing is complete and functioning at an optimum level."
"Yeah," I say softly. His words somehow make me feel less than human. I know he doesn't mean anything bad by them but I still feel like a freak. He seems to pick up on this.
"Hannah," he says gently. "We've all got our idiosyncrasies and flaws. Some of us have genetic disorders, syndromes, diseases," he says. "Challenges," he adds. "For better or worse, you are who you are. Just like the man who wakes up paralyzed after a skiing accident. Sooner or later that man accepts his condition and gets on with his life...or he doesn't. Do you understand me?"
I think I do. Slowly I nod my head.
"One of my favorite quotes is from an old movie about a man who was wrongfully sent to prison for the murder of his wife," Doctor Fish continues. "Towards the end, the main character says something to his best friend that is one of the truest things I've ever heard spoken. 'Get busy living or get busy dying.' Think about that."
I do think about it and it takes me a moment to completely understand it. "I'm not much for dying. Not yet, anyway."
Doctor Fish gives me a knowing look.
I guess it's time to get busy.