My body was completely covered in bandages. And I knew very well what that meant. My whole body was covered in cuts. Gut-wrenching, vine-like cuts that looked snakes’ eggs had been hatching all over my body. And the stitches made the mess only worse instead of better. They gave the snakes a lethal pattern.
All poor Aaron wanted back was his big brother. Not some masked creature of sorts that looked like it had been chewed up and spat out many times. That was me, Aaron’s big brother. Now the only Carter with absolutely no Carter features.
And the pain. I didn’t want to think about the pain just yet, but it was bound to be excruciating. Maybe in this day and age, someone had invented a drug to numb this pain. Oh they had all right, and the side effect is a literal killer.
The scene changed as my mouth dropped to the floor, along with the one on my real body. Air swirled around me, but I could still see the nurse unraveling the bandages, slowly, and the sight of my pure red skin. It took all I had not to puke all over myself. I could practically taste the vile contents of my stomach nudging at the back of my throat. Before me, the scene was only getting worse.
Setting: Hours, maybe even days before the scene I had just witnessed. A dark room, several young nurses, and an older man who looks like he knows what he’s doing. He pulls on his tight fitting gloves until they snap and utters a word to the young man beside him. They huddle intensely over the figure before them, watching the experienced man as he prods a tool expertly into the victim’s body. Nurses are now grabbing the more of the same tool the man is using and they begin to copy his every move. They are all intent on their job.
The radio is playing a song in the background. It happens to be a slower one of N’Sync’s songs. Coincidentally, as the song begins, a young female nurse who is humming the song, slips and swears profusely. A nerve from the patient kicks out and their leg snaps into the air. The young woman swipes madly at the blood she has concocted while the experienced man rushes over to the right leg. He can see that the some of the shiny plates that they are trying to remove have pushed deeper into the skin when the victim brought their leg back down. One of the pieces has missed a main artery by centimeters, and this is the one the doctor removes first.
He pries the tool deeper and deeper in until you can’t see the head of it anymore. And he probes it further into the gash left behind by the shiny little piece. The metal tool emerges from the depths victorious, and hands the man the little shiny plate. He tosses it into a nearby trashcan and begins to work again, this time dressing the wound.
The rest of the nurses are lucky. Most of the shiny plates are still sticking out of the skin and are easy to remove. They work quickly, grateful that the victim didn’t have any of those shiny things in their back. Still, they must work until late to get the job done. They don’t get many accidents in their workplace; everything usually goes according to plan. Therefore they don’t get paid as much as they want to. But they don’t complain. They don’t DARE complain.
The intense quiet of the room shrouds the doctors and nurses as they concentrate on their mission. Most of them hadn’t had any previous experience real patients. In fact, the closest they had gotten was a degree from high-tech big name university and the “How To” book for doctors. Most of them would disagree if someone argued that they had lack of experience. In a rage they would retort with a degree in one hand and a book in another. Then a speech about how we all have to start somewhere and how great the professor was, the one who taught them. But when you brought them to a real patient, in comparison a five-year-old child had more motor skills with a pencil than they their tools. And we all have to start somewhere. Maybe they should have dissected a fish. At least it was already dead and no one had to worry.
This operation should have been flawless. Basically like removing a thorn from a lion’s sore paw. But this lion had fallen into a cactus and for the effort, was unconscious. Routine procedure, perhaps even easier than the regular, and there just had to be a slip up. Oh, and God must have spent a little less time on her brain.
They are near completion now. But they can also see that the patient’s face is lacerated. The humming nurse looked determined to mention something about the patient’s face, but was hushed by a colleague when she saw that she was going to mention the young patient’s misfortune.
Then I woke up. At least, from that dream, I woke up. I’m not quite sure if I was conscious or anything, but I could think. Strangely I thought about my hair. I didn’t have any, as simple as that. What would girls think? They wouldn’t touch a hairless freak. For heaven’s sake, I didn’t even have any eyebrows. Even my eyelashes were thinning. Plus, I hadn’t had to shave in months.
I kept thinking about what kind of condition I might be in when I woke up. The chemo was already bad before, but now it was probably worse. From my experience, chemotherapy always got worse instead of better. First the hair goes, and the nausea sets in until you don’t even notice that it’s there anymore and, my least favorite, the feeding tube. I hated the goddamn feeding tube. But I couldn’t feed myself; even so my life really did depend on it. I’d gained some weight, so now I was hanging on a thread at 6’2” and 115 pounds. I wasn’t getting any exercise because of this, and that’s why I was so antsy. They let me walk around a bit sure, but I got tired so easily and I usually went to bed after ten minutes or so.
Even so I was getting treatment; it felt as though my condition was worsening. Everyday when I felt like doing something different I couldn’t pry myself out of bed. Some days I had to play Nintendo from my bed because I was so sick. In fact, some days I couldn’t play it at all. My vision blurred and my concentration wavered and I just was too weak to lift the joystick.
Now I brought new meaning to the words “bed ridden.” I knew that if I woke up now, I wouldn’t be able to move. I didn’t know if it was an accident then, but I did know from my vision that my condition was fatal. The glass had penetrated my skin at an enormous rate and the loss of blood was unmeasurable. But I still didn’t die; even so I wanted to. The terrible feeling of pain that I was receiving was about to get worse, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I had tried suicide all ready, now I decided that I would let the unknown forces choose my path for me.
Then I put some deep thought into my “accident.” I wasn’t stupid or naïve, and I knew that Louie had set me up. Either he wanted to kill and failed, or he wanted to immobilize me. I came to the conclusion that he had done this because I remembered that at the exact moment I raised my hand (which was the signal) the glass exploded INWARD. So it was done to me purpose. Some form of cruel punishment.
Little did I know, but the situation was about to get much worse. Now that I was completely immobilized, they could do whatever they wanted to me. There wasn’t much they could do, except kill me, but if they wanted to do that, they would have done so a long time ago. In my opinion, the worst thing they could do to me was to keep me alive.
Opening my eyes was difficult. They felt as though they were sewn shut because they were so swollen. But I needed to see where I was. I had to confirm the dream I had.
There were people around me: nurses, doctors, etc., who all saw me try to open my eyes.
“No, no! Don’t do that!” I could hear them lecture. I decided that I would keep my eyes shut until all of them left the room. As much as I hated to admit it, I depended on them now. I planned on getting well enough to see my friends and family again, and I needed those people to stay with me. If they got mad at me, I would be screwed I thought. But then again, I had the ability to put them out of a job. If someone got fired, they would have to be replaced. I had forgotten that this was actually a “working” facility, which meant that people got paid for what they did. I decided to be nice anyway. It’s more pleasant for everyone when the patient and the workers are cooperating.
Before I could wait for them to leave the room, I felt myself losing consciousness. Or maybe I was just falling asleep, I didn’t know. Whatever it was, it took me silently. I went to the same white world as I had been before, but I didn’t see anything this time. Somehow, I never got bored in this large, white place. I was probably there for days at a time, but every hour felt like a second because I couldn’t tell the time. Occasionally, I would wonder about my Nintendo, but most of the time I would try to get in touch with my inner self. I seemed to have so much to say, but I just wasn’t listening.
I would know when I got in touch with myself if I started seeing pictures. The pictures I saw were a result of intense concentration and serious thought.
I was very worried about my family though. I’d never be the same Nick that everyone knew and loved. I was now this big, vegetating lump of nothing. The fact still remained that I couldn’t do anything for myself. Probably not now, and probably never. In fact, I probably wasn’t even going to see my family again. I would die knowing that they remembered the Nick they knew before.
When I started thinking depressive like that, the visions never came. I knew that some place deep down inside myself was hurt by the words I said. Like I said before, I had a lot of time to think about these things.
The white walls shattered and I knew my time was up. When I “came to” I mumbled as best I could to see if anyone was in the room. The best I could do was to make a low noise from my voice box. At the moment, I couldn’t seem to move my lips.
There was silence. I was now safe to move. Carefully, I attempted to open an eyelid. I was sure that I had gotten it open, but I couldn’t see anything out of it. The room was still pitch black.
Maybe it was the lighting, I tried to comfort myself. But I knew from my dreams that there was a constant supply of light to the room. Windows were located purposely at spots where the sun shone directly into the room. Sunlight was supposed to make a patient feel better, but did none of that in my case.
I allowed myself to whimper as I shut my eyes. I knew all too well what this meant for me.
It was then that I heard something’s presence in the room. Or make that a someone. Someone had been watching me the whole time, but hadn’t said a word. I heard him or her get up from wherever they were sitting and walk towards me. Slowly, I sucked in a breath. Whoever this was had the ability to end everything for me in a single blow. If I tried to commit suicide already before, why was I so scared of dying now?
“You really shouldn’t do that Carter, opening your eyes like that. Drains the very little energy you have, ya know.” That voice, I knew that voice. And whoever it was knew that I was lying. I had never given anyone my last name or any personal information whatsoever.
Somehow this man (yes, it was a man) knew that I was shocked. I was sure that my face hadn’t even moved. The man inched closer and I heard him pull up a chair. I hardly felt him take my hand as he began to speak to me.
“Yes, I know who you are. Even so you didn’t technically lie to me, I still feel offended ya know. So you’re famous huh? Well I do plan on telling your family that you’re still alive. After the funeral of course, because yesterday you were pronounced dead. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that you are dead, maybe “in a vegetative state” would be the correct phrase.” He laughed freely at his own corny joke. I recognized that laugh as well. So familiar, I thought as I began to drift away. As he kept on laughing and I kept on drifting, I started to recognize the laugh. My subconscious began to take control and I suddenly began to think intelligently. It was Louie.
Chapter 35
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