I woke up the next morning, and I rolled over, groaning in the process as it felt like I'd been run over by a truck.
It didn't surprise me that my whole body was achy and stiff since I spent quite a few hours on the bathroom floor last night puking up what little amount of food I managed to choke down.
I heaved a yawn, stretched, then as I tried to sit up, I started coughing so hard it felt like I was gonna cough up my fucking lung. 'What the fuck is with all the coughing this week?' I wondered as my lungs stopped burning, but then started aching soon after.
A deep stabbing pain had filled my chest, and it was making it very painful to breathe; making it damn near impossible to take a deep breath.
I wish I could say I was just now starting to notice these symptoms, but I've been noticing them all week; noticing that they've gotten progressively worse over the past week, especially the past couple of days.
I slid off my bed and struggled to my feet. Every muscle in my body was stiff and it felt like they were being weighed down by lead; almost forcing me to stay in bed because of the pain.
I shuffled over to my dresser, and I grabbed a thermometer off the top of it, yanking off the plastic sleeve and popping it in my mouth, already knowing I was definitely running a fever just by how hot I was.
103.3, that's what the thermometer said, and for my leukemia filled bloodstream--rendering my body's ability to naturally fight infections--that's a really high temperature.
'Shit' I thought as I tossed the thermometer back on my dresser, now fully alert (apparently all my body needed was the fear of being sick to wake itself up), and terrified.
I ran out of my room and down the stairs, and as I entered the living room, I yelled, "Hey, Mom!"
"Yeah!" she answered
"I'm...uh...I..." I panted, stopping at the end of the stairs to catch my breath.
Mom looked me up and down, her eyes widening. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"
I slid into a seat at the dining table, my chest feeling like it was about to burst into flames, and I was completely out of breath from standing for no more than a few minutes.
Mom came over to the table, worry filling her already widened eyes as she sat down across from me. "What's going on, Ethan?"
I took a deep breath and said all in a frantic rush, "I'm running a fever. I can't stop coughing. I can't fucking breathe. I'm more tired than usual, and even the thought of eating makes me wanna puke..."
Mom stopped my rambling by flying out of her chair and pelting me with questions. "How high is your fever? How long have you had it? When did your symptoms start..." she trailed off as she paced back and forth in front of me, obviously trying to work off her nervous energy. She stopped pacing and turned her terrified gaze to mine. "Do we need to go to the doctor? Is it that bad? I just don't want it to be like last time..."
She trailed off again and tears filled her eyes as she stared at me. Her lip started trembling slightly, and I really didn't want her to cry, so I jumped out of my chair (gritting my teeth through the pain) and tightly wrapped my arms around her.
"Shh. I'm okay, Mom, really. I'm sure it's just a little cold or something," I said gently into her hair, attempting to keep her from freaking out as much as I was.
She took a deep, shaky breath and pulled away from my chest. She looked up into my eyes, and said with a humorless laugh, "What the hell am I doing? I should be comforting you right now."
I swiped the few tears that had leaked out of her eyes away, and I "confidently" responded, "I'm okay, Mom. You need more comfort than I do right now. I mean, do you see me crying?"
She laughed lightly and said, "Well, thank you for calming me down, but now we have to focus on you. I'm calling Dr. K and seeing what she has to say, okay?"
I nodded and one corner of my lips lifted slightly. "Okay. You do that, and I'm going to eat since I'm starving."
That was technically a complete lie, even the thought of food was making me feel nauseated, but I wanted her to think I wasn't as sick as I felt, so she wouldn't freak out any more than she already did.
This time she nodded and said somewhat calmly, "Okay. What do you wanna eat? I'll make it while I'm calling Dr. K."
The only thing I actually wanted was a cheeseburger from McDonald's. All that grease and salt would help settle my stomach a little, but I didn't want her to go all the way to freakin' McDonald's just for that, so I replied, "Um...soup's fine."
I sat back down at the table as Mom grabbed her phone and headed into the kitchen to make my food.
I was genuinely scared about what Dr. K would say, as I figured I had a cold, or the flu, which to anyone else, it wouldn't really matter a whole lot; you just felt like shit for a few days, then you're fine, but that's not the case for me.
As my body's immunocompromised--my body has no ability to naturally fight off germs--I get sick really easily, and when I do get sick, my body can't fight off the germs by itself, so I always require medicine of some sort to fight off whatever was making me sick.
"Okay, you want me to bring him in..? Today? Okay, yeah I can do that," Mom rambled on, apparently answering Dr. K's onslaught of questioning.
Mom hung up the phone and came over with my soup and a sleeve of saltine crackers. She set a steaming bowl of canned, chicken noodle soup down in front of me, and I wrinkled my nose at the bowl as I felt my stomach roll just looking at it.
Mom sat down next to me and glanced expectantly at my bowl, waiting for me to take a bite. I slowly reached for my spoon and swirled the broth around, catching a few noodles in the process.
I stared at the spoon, my stomach already churning. I didn't really wanna eat my soup as I knew I would throw it up if I did, but I brought the spoon up to my mouth and took a bite, just to make my Mom happy.
She smiled, satisfied, as I set my spoon down and picked up a cracker. "So, what did Dr. K say?" I nervously questioned as I took a bite of the cracker.
Mom blew out a deep breath. "She wants to see you. Today. So, after you finish your food, we're heading over to the hospital."
I nodded, already knowing I needed a crap-ton of tests to determine what was wrong with me, but all I wanted to do right now was go right back to bed. And not go to the hospital at all; however, ignoring whatever was wrong with me would only make it worse, so I knew I had to go.
I slid my bowl away as even the smell of it was even making me nauseous, then I crossed my arms on the table and laid my newly pounding head on them. I felt steadily worse as the minutes ticked by. I now had a headache, I was nauseous, and I was so tired I could barely stay awake.
"Ethan, sweetheart. I know you don't feel well, but you have to eat," Mom practically pleaded.
I lifted my head slightly to look at her and she was staring at me with a pleading, yet stern look in her eyes. I knew I had to eat something, but I really didn't want to eat that soup, and if I did, I would be back on the bathroom floor, puking my guts out again.
"Mom, please don't make me eat. It's already making me feel sick," I whined.
She sighed, the stern look in her chocolate brown eyes fading as she reached over and rubbed my back. My eyes fluttered closed, and I could literally fall asleep right then and there, but if I did I probably--more like definitely--wouldn't get back up.
Come on, Eath. Get up.
I forced my eyes open, and I struggled to simply keep them open, then came the difficult process of sitting back up; now that was a whole other, ordeal. It felt like every one of my limbs were glued to the seat, and to the table, as I struggled to push myself up.
"Well, let's get this shit over with," I said tiredly after I managed to sit up.
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"Yeah, we're at the hospital right now," Mom said to Dad as she paced back and forth in my hospital room, updating Dad on how I was doing, and what was going on.
We technically didn't know what the hell was wrong as my blood work and x-rays haven't come back yet; all we knew was that I was extremely dehydrated, and in need of fluids immediately.
So I was curled up in a ball in the hospital (again, this was the second time this month), hooked up to my IV fluids with Lea pressed against my chest for comfort, and for warmth as I was freezing.
Lea reached up and tried to snatch my beanie off my head, but I gently grabbed her tiny wrist and said, "Uh-uh, little sis. You're not taking my hat. I need it to stay warm."
Which definitely wasn't a lie: I was so fucking cold right now. Even with a long-sleeved shirt, a hoodie, jeans, and my beanie pulled way down on my skull.
Literally, every inch of my skin was covered with either clothes or a blanket, and I was still freezing my ass off. Always fun times in the hospital...
"It's not dat cold," Lea replied, confusion in her little eyes.
I felt one corner of my lips tip up as I responded tiredly, "It's pretty cold in here little sis. Especially since I'm sick. That makes it even worse."
Lea's eyebrows dipped in confusion. "Why are you sick? What's wong?"
"Good question, Lee," I murmured with a chuckle.
She looked even more confused. "Huh?"
I chuckled again and shook my head. "It's an expression, Lee. You say it when you don't have an answer to whoever's asking you a question."
"Weally?" Lea asked, slightly astonished even though she probably had no idea what I was even talking about.
I nodded and my eyes drifted closed, as keeping them open was next to impossible. "Yup..."
"Etan? Are you sweeping?" Lea asked softly after a moment, then she swiped her hand across my jaw.
I felt a grin tugging at my lips as I whispered, "I'm trying to."
"You can't sweep, doh. You have to stay up and play with me," Lea protested and wiggled out of my arms.
I bit back a groan as I knew it wasn't her fault, she just assumed I was having another one of my bad days (when her little antics usually made me feel better), but all they were doing today was annoying the hell out of me.
"Lea, sweetie. Ethan can't play right now. He needs some rest," Mom scolded gently and lifted Lea off my bed.
Mom took her over to a chair and she got a book out of her purse to read to Lea: one of her favorite things. Lea loves it when you either make up a story to tell her, you read her something, or she tells you a very elaborate (sometimes very confusing) story. She's always loved books and stories. It's one of her fun little quirks.
Despite the bone-chilling temperature of the hospital, and the fact that I'm hooked up to an annoying IV pole, I nearly fell asleep within seconds of me closing my eyes and getting all comfy.
A
fter maybe a minute, my phone went off multiple times, alerting me to the texts someone was obviously blowing my phone up with.
I actually groaned this time as I shrugged my blanket off and reached for my phone. There were seven unread text's from Abby, and four from Will, as well.
From: Abbster
OMG! Eath!
Drew just got a call from your Dad saying you're in the hospital!!
What's going on?
Are you okay?
Please tell me you're okay?!!
Eath! Please, God please tell me your okay?!?! Drew and I are freaking the fuck out!!
Just please text me when you can? I hope you're alright. :)
From: Will
Hey dude, I heard you were in the hospital. :/
Hope everything's okay..?
Text me or Abby when you can. She's blowing my phone up right now, asking me a million questions that I don't have answers to.
So... Just text one of us when you can..?
I felt a burning sense of guilt pooling in the pit of my stomach as I felt like complete crap for-a different reason then I have all day--not telling my best friends or my own fucking brother I was in the hospital.
I'm an asshole.
My brother and my friends were probably going insane worrying about me, and I hadn't even bothered to send a simple text saying that I was fine.
Which probably wasn't true, anyway. I probably wasn't fine in the slightest, but still: telling my friends and my brother that I was okay is better than letting them sit around worrying about me.
To: Abbster
Hey Abbs. I saw your text's and I just wanted to ease your mind.
Yes, I'm in the hospital. I don't currently know what the fuck is wrong other than I'm dehydrated.
I'm just waiting on the test results now.
Got any jokes that could cheer me up? :P
As I waited for her response, I sent something quite similar to Will, assuring him that I was okay, and that we were waiting for the tests to come back.
Before I could even finish texting Will though, Abby had already sent me multiple texts back.
From: Abbster
Holy crap Eath! I've been so worried about you!
What kind of test's did they do? Just the usual?
How long have you been feeling like crap?
Drew and I are coming to the hospital, and we're picking Will up on the way.
Be there soon! Hope everything comes back okay...well, as okay as it can be. :)
I replied with a smiple "okay," then I turned over and dropped my phone on the table beside my bed. I didn't have the energy to reply with anything more elaborate than that.
"What's with all the dings?" Mom teased as she looked at me over her book.
I rubbed my eyes and heaved a yawn. I then stretched back against my pillows as I answered, "Apparently Dad called Drew, then Drew told Abby about me being in the hospital. And now she's blowing up my phone."
"Yeah, I was going to call Drew right after I called your father, but Dad said he would call him on the way over," Mom replied.
"When's he supposed to be here?" I asked as my eyes closed of their own accord.
"Uh. About half an hour. Hopefully, we'll know something by then," Mom responded nervously.
"Yeah...hopefully..." I said, trailing off as the words died on my tongue. Hell, they died in my brain as it was next to impossible to form a coherent thought right now.
"Just go to sleep, sweetheart. I'll hold down the fort," Mom said softly against my head, then she kissed my forehead.
I didn't even know she got up she was so quiet, but apparently, she was standing right in front of me.
"Okay," I murmured, already falling asleep from laying there for no more than 30 seconds.
I didn't want to go to sleep because when Dr. K would come back with my test results, I wanted to be awake for it; to finally hear what the hell is actually wrong with me, but I couldn't help it.
My body was literally refusing to stay awake. As much as I wanted to, it wouldn't let me. Every time I tried to pry my eye's open, they either wouldn't open, or they would just close immediately after I managed to open them.
So I finally just gave in, and I let myself fall into a deep, luxurious sleep.
Alrighty! Another chapter finished. I guess you guys have to wait to find out what's actually wrong with Ethan too. Sorry... Actually, not sorry. :P
The questions of this chapter are:
1. How do you guys feel about the hospital? Do you hate it? Do you like it (for some strange reason :p)? Or are you fine going there, but wouldn't do it as an activity xD? What are your thoughts on it?
I personally used to hate it when I was little, but now I don't mind it so much. Guess I've just grown out of that fear of needles, and scary things that you don't understand. XD
2. When you guys' are sick, what do you feel like? Like a semi ran you over? Or just a minivan?
Personally, I feel like multiple semis ran me over. Unfortunately, I also feel this way fairly often. :(
And finally, last but not least, 3. Are you guys' liking the author to reader question section--also we have to come up with a better name if we continue this, this one's way too long--or do you not like them?
I love interacting with you guys' as much as possible, but if the questions just annoy you, then I'll stop asking them.
Leave your thoughts in the comments, as I would love to read them. :)
-Love,
Mikey ❤️