"You didn't have to come and get me, I could've driven myself."
"Yeah, well my mom wanted to make sure you got to the hospital safely." Scott put his motorbike in the back of the truck, like he did the night before.
I threw the remainder of the things I was bringing to the hospital with me into the back of the truck. Since last night, I began to use the oxygen tank all the time. It was a pain to carry up and down the stairs, but at least I wouldn't fall into a fit of coughing and gasping and not being able to breathe again. I finally decided to stop being stubborn and use the little cart that came with it, but that was only to bring it outside.
"I assume you'll be driving again?"
"Your assumption is correct."
I sighed a little and shoved a hand into my pocket, tossing the key over the back of the truck to Scott, who caught it.
"Natalie?"
"Nat. You can call me Nat. I probably should've told you before, but yeah, back to what you were saying?"
"Don't worry about the inhaler. I might have accidentally just stretched the truth a little when I mentioned it to my mom."
.
"Hurray," I said sarcastically, "I get to wear an oversized apron."
"They're not that bad," Melissa said, handing me the thin dressing gown.
"They're really thin and whenever you roll over or move, bam, stray breeze coming through that feels like it's going to turn you to ice."
"Okay, maybe they kind of suck," she finally said, with a slight smile perking up in the corner of her mouth. "I'll leave you in here to get changed and settled in. I'll be back in about ten minutes, so I can get you all hooked up to those machines." She put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it before going to the door.
"Melissa?"
She was just about to shut the door, her hand reaching for the door handle. She twisted at the waist so she was looking at me.
"Yeah?"
"I hate hospitals."
She smiled, closing the door behind her.
I sighed as she closed the door, not really wanting to change out of my warm clothes into that terribly breezy dressing gown. I threw it out on the bed in front of me, having to take off the tubes that went around my face to provide me with oxygen. It felt strange, not having to rely on the thing to breathe. Granted, it was harder, but I was breathing real air; gross, sick people air. But it was better than breathing in the air from a canister. I was surprised that they hadn't started making oxygen tanks scented, so the air you breathed in smelled great.
I pulled off my clothes reluctantly and deliberately slow, wanting to stay warm for as long as possible. I took everything off, excluding my underwear and socks. I didn't want my feet to get cold, so I was keeping the socks, even if I was going to be dead in a few days. Cold feet were not worth that. Whilst I was changing, I noticed how bony I had actually gotten. I guess imminent death made you lose weight. You could see it better on my face; my cheekbones poked out slightly and there were small hollows below them, my eyes looked a bit sunken and the sleep lines under my eyes had gotten darker and bigger. At least I didn't start loosing my hair. It was thinning a bit, yeah, but it wasn't falling out. Well, scratch that. It might start happening. I hadn't been paying much attention to my appearance lately, only making sure that I was wearing proper clothes and that my hair and teeth were brushed. Mirrors hadn't been an everyday thing for me in the first place. I only lingered long enough in front of one to make sure that I looked presentable.
I stuffed my clothes into a small dresser that had been placed by my bedside, taking up the top shelf. My backpack was sitting in one of the chair, and the vase with a few of the poppies was on the table that sat next to it. I shuffled over to them, picking both of them up and moving them over to the dresser. I shoved the pillow and blanket I had brought into the second drawer, because I was sure Melissa or someone else would get them if I wanted them. I left the other things in the bag, dropping it on the ground next to the dresser. I set the vase down near the edge of the dresser so it was close to the bed, so I could see it when I would have to be laying down all the time. It would suck, having the lie here for a week and slowly degrade until either my heart stopped or my lungs stopped working. I was betting on the latter to happen first.
I crawled up onto the edge of the bed, sitting on it with my feet almost touching the floor. I breathed in one last gulp of air before deciding to put the tubes that connected me to oxygen back on. I hunched over, my elbows resting on my knees. It was all coming to me now. This was it. I was going to die here and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. Tears were stinging in the corners of my eyes.
The door opened unexpectedly and my first instinct was to cover myself up with the blanket and throw one of the two pillows that were on the bed at the person who walked in. Instead I just sat there, hunched over, my eyes threatening to spill tears and my lower lip quivering.
"Nat? Nat!" It was Scott. Why did he keep appearing everywhere? Okay, the second time he didn't appear, his mom sent him to come and get me. So this was unofficially the second time. I could hear him move towards me, along with another set of slower footsteps. I sniffled, and tears started down my face. He crouched down in front of me, so he was looking up to me.
"Scott..."
"Nat, what is it?"
"This is it. I'm going to die. It was all a game before, because I wasn't here, I didn't have to face it." The tears slowly progressed, along with shuddering my already messed up breathing.
"Hey, don't say that," he cooed, trying to comfort me. "It's not over yet, now is it?"
"But it is. It is, Scott." I was full-out sobbing now. He was silent in front of me for a little bit, before he came out of his crouch and gave me a hug. I was getting all snotty-nosed and it was gross, because it was getting all over the little nose nodes on the tube. But I was starting to leave this "there is no hope left in the world you can just leave me here to die" stage and returning to my normal sarcastic personality. "You're my best friend Scott, and I've only known you for a few days. What a sucky way to begin a friendship." I let go of him and pulled the tube off of my face, reaching over to the dresser to grab a tissue from the tissue box that sat on it. I wiped my nose and the nodes, putting the thing back on my face.
The guy that was standing off to the side behind Scott looked like he had just got hit by a train.
"Uh, Scott -" I sniffled again, trying to keep the gross nose goo from reaching the nodes again. "- I think I broke your friend with my emotional breakdown."
"Isaac?" Scott looked a bit worried, because said Isaac was kind of just staring in our general direction.
Isaac shook his head, snapping out of whatever trance he was in.
"No, yeah, I'm fine." He glanced behind him, finding one of the two armchairs, and taking one. Scott stepped back, taking to leaning against the wall with the door that lead into the hallway.
"Isaac... I know you from somewhere. You look familiar. Do you play lacrosse?"
"Yeah, number 14."
"Thought so. I'm Natalie, by the way. You can call me Nat I would lean over and hold out my hand for you to shake, but I think that might be a little too traumatic for you."
A small smile broke onto his face, and one appeared on my face too.
Mrs. McCall finally returned to my room, with a clipboard.
"Are they bothering you?" was the first thing out of her mouth.
"Yes, they're harassing me," I said sarcastically, with a smile tugging at the edge of my mouth. A grin appeared on her lips, and she walked around the bed to the heart monitor, an IV drip, and what looked like something that would breathe for me. "And as punishment, I will force both of them to play me in checkers. Well, I have to get a checkers board first."
.
Scott and Isaac were sitting on benches outside of Natalie's hospital room. Scott was rubbing his hands together, trying to gather his words.
"So...what do you think of her?"
"Well...she's optimistic for only having a week to live."
