I had been enjoying the small amount of sleep I was granted by the Sandman, but now some fool is tapping my shoulder and thigh in an attempt to coax me awake from my sweet slumber. Typically, I don't mind waking up with being a morning person, but that's always forgotten when tired.
It's probably only been an hour or two since I actually fell asleep. Leah came in to check on me. She saw that I was still awake and demanded that I try harder or I wouldn't be allowed my dessert. Considering the meals here are crap, I don't want to miss out on the only tolerable thing.
Whoever it is trying to wake me doesn't seem to be understanding what my lack of response indicates. They've already managed to drag me from my peaceful dreamless state with their wicked actions. If they don't cease this torture, I'm going to slap them into next year.
"Zoe, Baby?" Mother is here again, I thought I banned her? "Birdie." Dad's here also, making it more understandable as to why she's here. "Miss Smith?" Isn't that Leah? I should just open my eyes, that would solve everything.
"Can a girl get some silence?" I grunt enough for the touching to stop. Two types of laughter ring around the room heartily while my Mother's groaning stands above it, begging that I act like a normal teenager for a minute. "I have barely been asleep for an hour, now I have to get up?" My lashes flutter to reveal narrowed eyes.
"Come on, Baby. Nurse Leah needs to do some more checks, and you're being difficult." She finishes with an apology to Leah who admits that it isn't a problem. "She was the one that demanded I sleep." My hand lifts to motion to the woman before flopping against the bed again, my limbs feel kind of heavy.
Sitting up, I grin like a spoiled brat and assassin combined. Just because I'm behaving doesn't mean they are forgiven for their crimes. I need my rejuvenating hibernation after everything this week has brought me.
"You're such a nightmare at times, Zoe." Her head is in her hands, back pressed against the wall to the side of me as though trying to disappear through it due to the mortification I have caused. "You're the one who chose to give birth to me." As I start up a new debate, Father turns to Leah to strike up a conversation while we argue.
"Not like I had much choice, you were premature." She turns, sticking out her bottom lip like she's won the fight. "You still chose to conceive me." My comment makes her bite her lip, I give a wink. "Yet you still love me." She softens at the comment, smiling happily and agreeing.
"I hate to interrupt, but I really do need to get these evaluations done." Leah steps over, flashing me the familiar folder. "Can I shower after? I feel like I've taken a mud bath."
"Of course, but you will need to make sure none of your bandages get wet." She says that, but we both know I'm going to have something to say about the fact. "So basically I can wash one hand and one foot, that's brilliant."
"I'm sure you'll figure something out," She giggles. "Alright then, deal." I hold my hand out like a professional business woman, which she joyfully shakes. "Just basic questions: Are you in any pain?"
"Not at all." She squints, flicking through her papers. "Even if you apply pressure?" I wiggle about to see if anything burns, then press on top of a few white sheets. "Not a single twinge." Her eyebrows shoot up. I guess I'm supposed to feel something and I don't recall being on any pain meds.
"Ok, moving on. Have you noticed any symptoms of infection? Such as fever, aches, fatigue." I shake my head throughout the question. "I feel fine, but quite hungry." She smiles back, sniggering a little. "Any discomfort?"
"I feel like a month old greasy burger, does that count?" I hear Mother grumble under her breath while Father chuckles. "Just let me disconnect you from the machines before you run off into the bathroom and rip open your skin in the process."
"Thank you, a hundred thanks." I give her my best innocent smile to add to the gratitude. The stupid gesture makes more of her refreshing snickers wash over the room, her head shaking at the playful amusement.
As soon as her gentle hands begin fiddling with the wires, my Mother excuses herself with clear discomfort. "Go with her please, I don't want her fainting." I turn my head to her husband, who's already getting up. "Trust me, I'm way ahead of you." He sighs.
The machines shut down once turned off at the plug, both IV's stop pumping sustenance into me at the same time. "This may pinch." She slides the long needles out from my hand and elbow, though I feel nothing. Considering I am supposed to have a fear of needles, like my Mother, I'm not really all that bothered by seeing the metal slip from my veins.
She peels off the gel pads one at a time since it's like having my skin sliced with a potato peeler. "Is there anything else on me?" I contort, expecting to find hidden wires or something. "I believe that is everything," She giggles more.
Sliding off of the slab, I reach up before leaning to touch my toes. The popping sound would give my Mum a heart attack. "Be careful not to get any of your bandages wet. Do you need help walking? Your ankle isn't in a cast since the damage was easily fixable but that doesn't mean you won't be unsteady." She starts cleaning up all of the contents that were just ripped from my body. "Will do. And I should be ok, it doesn't hurt or anything."
Waddling through to the connected en suite that is only available to those willing to pay, Mother is something else, I find that I can walk surprisingly easily. There are very few of these rooms due to the hospital only being small to fit with the size of the town. Therefore, the bathroom is also rather cramped. There's only just enough space to move around in the middle with the presence of a toilet, bath and sink. It is still nicely decorated though, unlike the rest of the building.
Standing in front of the mirror above the sink, I can see what dying has done to me. I am naturally pretty pale, but I'm not usually waxy with no colour at all. On any other day, I'd have a gentle blush to my cheeks and my lips aren't typically blue. The styling of my hair makes me look like The Bride of Frankenstein.
Flipping on the switch for the shower, warm water starts noisily crashing against the plastic. Stripping from the horrid robes, the number of plasters is far greater than I thought. That wolf was determined to bite anything it could. I look like a modern day Mummy.
"Everything ok in there, Miss Smith?" A gentle tapping on the door feels far sweeter than it should. "All's good. Though I am unsure how I'm going to do this without at least one bandage getting damp. What's going to happen if it does?" I squat to search through the cupboard for a comb. "If moisture enters an open or healing wound, it could get infected. Between you and me though, the plasters are waterproof as long as they don't come loose."
"You're a lifesaver, Leah." Kind of literally. "No problem, I've spent long enough in this career to understand the difficulties. I will be back in ten with clean clothes for you, I just need to check some other patients first."
"No worries." I hear the main door close not long after.
Climbing under the running mist, the hot water seeps into my joints. I adore the heavenly feeling of water, my Mum took full advantage of me being a water baby. She even got me to competitively swim for a few years until I got bored and gave it up.
Laying in bed for several days has really bothered my anatomy. I'm an active person and hate staying indoors, I spend most of my time out exploring and on the road, being cooped up isn't in my nature.
The most euphoric sensation has to be scrubbing off the remains of blood and PVP-I. I'm in dire need of a full body scrub. That will sadly have to wait until I am allowed home - I don't have efficient tools for it here. I don't think there's even a flannel for me to use.
Tilting my head back, the long strands coming from my scalp soak up the cleanliness. They grow in weight, but it isn't bothersome. The bright white turns to a darker blonde, it looks more natural when wet despite being practically white since birth.
Mother used to believe that I'm Albino due to white skin and hair. Whereas I think I have a mutation in my hair follicles that causes the pigmentation to die. As well as having a severe illness called 'Living in England syndrome' which results in pasty skin from the nonexistent sunlight and Vitamin D.
Classic hospital trying to reduce complications by not providing hair or body wash. I guess it's up to water and nails to remove the extra layer of flesh that's been made by dead skin cells and mire. Surely it wouldn't be too difficult to provide a disposable sponge to help with showering. If it's made of all natural materials then the infection rate is slim, and it would be even more effective than artificial chemicals and synthetic cloths.
"Miss Smith, are you almost done?" Shit, been getting distracted. "Yeah, I'll be about five minutes." Some shuffling answers back to me, followed by, "I'll pass your clothes through when you're ready."
Not really wanting to keep her waiting, I scratch at my head before stepping out. Hopefully there's a towel I can dry off with before changing into maybe some comfier clothing. I have to remain wary so as to not slip on the condensed floor tiles while pulling down a black microfiber towel. For a merciful fabric, it's really gouging out chunks of my flesh. The hospital is really shit at finding good companies for supplies.
My hands move carefully when rubbing off the water droplets. I don't want to press too hard against the adhesive pads in case of triggering something. They may not be painful but I don't want to rupture a stitch. If that were to happen, I'd be stuck here for a few more days while they stitch me up and monitor everything all over again.
The lovely lady's raps ring out for the third time, she's too patient. Opening the door just a crack, she passes over the pile of clothing without dropping them. One of the only good things to come from this experience, I've already had surgery. That means I can wear my own clothes, as long as they are appropriate.
Mother has clearly considered everything with this selection. Loose pyjama shorts, an old band shirt that's baggy from age and gentle underwear. Nothing will dig in; nothing is tight; nothing is uncomfortable.
Yanking the shirt over my head, I somehow catch the corner of some tape. The glue sticks to the back of my hand, inevitably removing the whole thing off of the wound. If that's what waxing feels like, I'll stick to shaving. Good God that stings.
Part of the glue must have melted from the heat, obviously I didn't notice like a fool. Sticking it back on isn't going to do shit, the damage is done. Looking down, there's no need to panic.
When a wound is stitched up freshly, there's an obvious mark from the entrance and exit of the thread. Plus, a distinct line where the gash is. Currently, I am in a large state of confusion since there's no remains of a bite other than a few pieces of ink coloured collagen poking out of my skin.
"Miss Smith?" She's going to think I've fallen down the drain at this rate. "Coming." Letting the shirt fall, the patch is covered. Shoving the bobble provided over my wrist, I pile my hair into a messy bun without the help of a mirror, keeping it loose to not aggravate the stitches on my scalp.
Swinging the door open, I am face to face with Leah whose eyes instantly pick up on the tattered bandage in my hands. "Just the one?" She sounds a touch entertained by my lack of fuss, though my shock does seem to confuse her. "Yeah, the rest all seem fine." I just witnessed some bizarre sorcery, what face should I be making?
"No worries, the Doctor just asked me to change them anyway. How did it look?" She points for me to sit back on the bed while she takes two gloves from the dispenser on the wall. "Absurd." The scoff sounds humoured. "Not a normal reaction from a patient, I will admit."
Her fingers curl under my shirt, moving it out of the way. Taking over, I watch her face while holding the fabric high enough for her to see. Her general smile fades to a confused grimace upon seeing the state of my stomach. "There's a few things I could say, though they aren't exactly appropriate."
"Now what?" I ask, and she is soon grinning again. "I'll just remove the remaining thread since it could cause problems when not dissolved. Then I'll check the others in case they're in the same condition. If all is ok, I'll look into getting you discharged early." How is she calmer than me? It isn't like she sees this daily, unless we have miracle doctors here.
She starts a casual conversation while plucking at the thread with some tweezers. Even for a nurse, she seems too comfortable and experienced with this.
A few times, she gets stuck on the areas where the stitches are deeper so I assure her she isn't hurting me when tugging harder. Turns out all patches have healed, as revealed when the third gauze is removed.
"It's a little bit fascinating how they have healed so quickly, and with no scarring." She looks up through her lashes when picking at a particularly difficult piece. "How long does it normally take?" I may as well know how eerie this is. "On average it takes about a week for smaller or fewer cuts. But with the size and high number, around a couple of months, six at most."
"How long was I?" I'm not sure if I actually want to know the answer to that. "About two and a half days."
"Fuck." Her head bounces, "Precisely." Her wheeled stool squeaks as she moves to the side to reach my arms. "Are you the only nurse who works here?"
"Of course not, why do you ask?" Occasionally, between sentences she'll stop her actions to look up at me whilst we converse like old friends. "You're the only one I ever see." There's a subtle laugh in my voice, which of course she overpowers with her own titters. "We're assigned specific patients that are our responsibility to take care of."
"Surely you shouldn't be the only one assigned to me though, you've been working day and night." I have no interest in Medical careers, I just know how they work. "I work a lot of over time. I'm the only one providing for my family. By working extra time I can get paid double my rate and provide more for my siblings." I am really not surprised she's taken on such responsibility, it sounds like something she'd do from what I've gauged of her.
"How old are they? Your siblings I mean." Her seat creaks when moving to the right a bit more. "I have two sisters, one thirteen and the other nine. My little brother is only one."
"Just babies then." I adore little one's, anyone thirteen or younger are only children to me. "Yeah. I don't get to see them much with my hours but it's for their own good that I have to miss out on so much." A true sacrifice of a loved one.
"Well, it looks like you're all done." She taps my thigh now that there isn't anything on it. The holes where the thread were have closed up as soon as she removed the stitch. If she noticed, she hasn't said anything even though I'm freaking out over it internally.
"I'll go get a doctor to get you discharged." She bins the gloves and remains from my wounds before disappearing out of the door.
Mother immediately starts throwing around questions which Leah calmly answers, still talking like there's no care in the world. I leave her to it while flopping down onto the stone ledge that is a bed. I am never going to be allowed out of the house again.