3rd Person
The whole floor was quiet, as usual. Everyone spoke in hushed voices. A nurse was passing by one of the rooms when she stopped and backed up. She knew that boy, laying on that hospital bed. At least, she did if that was the same little boy who had come here as a small, barely able to walk toddler with brain cancer. Since she was about to go on lunch break but wasn't feeling hungry, she decided to see if it really was him. She walked to the doorway and knocked on the wall, quietly. A woman looked back at her.
"That's not Joseph laying in that bed, is it?" She asked. Last she had seen of him was the day he put his hand on the wall when he was 10. After that, she had moved out of state for a few years. She had only moved back this month. The woman nodded, standing up to greet the old nurse.
"Hello Ms. Nancy." She said, hugging the older woman. During the time Joseph had been little, the two had grown close. "Yes, it's Joseph."
"Oh dear, tell me he isn't sick again. And who's the little girl?" Ms. Nancy asked.
"She's his un-officially-adopted little sister. Joseph relapsed when he was fourteen."
Ms. Nancy picked up the clipboard on the edge of the bed, and read it. "So she's the one they want to try the surgery on. Poor girl. She's so young."
Joseph's mom, Maria, nodded. "She needs to make it, ms. Nancy. If she...If she cant pull through this, then I fear that Joseph won't either. He loves her so much."
Ms. Nancy looked sadly at the two children on the bed. "It's just not fair, is it? They're just kids." She looked back at Maria. "I know the surgeons who will be doing the surgery when it's time. They're fantastic. If there's a way to save her, they will find it. Now I have to go check on another patient, but I'll come visit again later, ok?"
Maria nodded, and Ms. Nancy left the room with one last look at the kids on the bed. Joseph had curled himself around Marissa protectively, as if he could protect her from the world. With a sad sigh, she turned and continued down the hall way. Less than five minutes later though, she heard the frantic sounds of nurses and doctors rushing down the hall, calling for an oxygen tank and someone to get the elevator open. She hurried to the door and stuck her head out, and saw the nurses and doctors disappear with the gurney in the same room Joseph and the little girl Marissa had been in. Only a few seconds later they came back out, a convulsing Joseph laying on the gurney. Ms. Nancy remembered several years ago, with a much younger Joseph in the same situation. He had only been maybe 7 years old at the time, and very sick. It had been more than just the cancer that day- he also had the flu. And then he had an allergic reaction to one of the medications that caused his throat to close up, his hands to swell, and a rash to cover his body. Everyone had thought he would die that night, they were for sure he would. But somehow, someone had guessed the answer and they were able to get him stable. He had been so weak for so long after that, they all expected him to be in a wheelchair his whole life, unable to speak or do anything on his own. The kid was stubborn though, and somehow got better, although it took him 2 years to be able to do things like get dressed and walk on his own again. How she hoped this would be a repeat.
Two Days Later
The next two days dragged on and on. Marissa got into the surgery, and they had to remove both feet. They were going to keep her in the hospital for the next few days for chemo and to monitor how she heals. She had been asleep still when Joseph has the seizure, and she still hadn't been told what happened. As far as she knew, he wasn't feeling well and they had put him a different room so he wouldn't accidentally hurt her. The day after the surgery, she had been too out of it to think much about him. But today, she was almost completely back to her normal, active, talkative self, and kept asking her mom when she could see Joseph. Jane wasn't sure how to tell her that he wasn't allowed to have any visitors besides his own mother.
Joseph woke up that day, after two days of being unconscious and on life support. He woke up feeling very lightheaded and weak, and didn't know where he was. He couldn't recognize anyone for what felt like hours. He would fall into a fitful sleep every half hour, before waking up, sometimes quietly, sometimes screaming. At one point, they had ot restrain him to the bed, because he would try to attack the doctors or get up and leave. They weren't sure why he would have such violent episodes and be able to fight as much as he did, and then the next time he woke up be too weak to do much more than lift a finger. It wasn't until late that night that he seemed to have regained control of his body and was able to stay awake. The doctors let his mother go in the room, but told her they wanted to keep him restrained a little longer, so he wouldn't be to hurt himself in any way.
As Maria sat on the edge of her son's bed, she couldn't help but feel guilty for all the times she had lost her temper with him. Looking at him, curled up in the white sheets, attached to so many wires and machines, face pink with fever and sweating, yet covered in goose bumps and shivering as if he was in a snow storm in a tank top and shorts, she couldn't help but cry. He was awake, his blue eyes watching her, but she couldn't tell if he knew who she was. He looked confused when he saw her wipe her eyes, and even more confused when he looked over at his own hand, laying limply on the bed with a padded cuff holding his wrist down. His lips moved, but no sound came out. It was like when he was seven years old all over again. Completely vulnerable, unable to do anything on his own, confined to a wheelchair for two years before he could start use a walker and then walk on his own after 6 months with a walker. She could only hope that wouldn't be the case this time. She hoped that he would either snap out of it and be okay in a few days, or that this would be the end.
