Hello all! Hope you enjoy this one, it's a different kind of writing then I'm used to, but change can be a good thing, no?
Summary: Lord Vader crashes on a planet and is found by a kind and skilled medic who dislikes mechanical prosthetics.
Diary of a Man In a galaxy that never was... October 12thNormally I would never keep a diary. There isn't a point to writing something you don't intend anyone to ever read. However there just isn't anything else to do here. I guess I should start at the beginning. I'm Lord Darth Anakin Vader Skywalker, second in command of the Galactic Empire. I was on my way to Caldria for a surprise inspection when something happened. I honestly don't remember. I had been in a trance for the long journey and the first thing I saw when I woke up was a planet filling my view and a crack in the transperisteel. A medic named Sofia pulled my body from the wreck. My suit was little more than crumpled scrap around me, and she didn't recognize me at all. I gave her my first name, it's better if she doesn't know who I am right now. The only thing worse then a bad medic is a nervous one. I can't leave my bed, and she says I've been out since the second of the month. She doesn't want to sedate me for any longer than what is absolutely necessary. To keep me occupied she gave me this book and a pencil.
October 14thI can remember only one time in my life that I've been in more pain. According to Sofia the pain medication she has been giving me was having a reaction with whatever I had been taking before the crash, and might make me heal slower. She's ordered a supply of something called aspirintin. I told her I've never heard of it and she said it's the bark off of a tree. Apparently it is good for my heart too. I just hope it arrives soon, with all of my force energy put into keeping me alive I can't suppress the pain.
October 17thSweet relief, the aspirintin finally arrived. I now have more stitches then I can count. Sofia told me today that I could live an almost normal life, but her boss wants to be sure that they will be paid. Through the force I could feel that her 'boss' was actually a credit company, and made a casual comment that pointed out her lie. Seems she is a bit far in debt thanks to some charity work she did a few years ago. She was supposed to be paid a flat fee for the work, but the company went bankrupt and left her with all the bills for the supplies. I made a sizable withdrawal from an anonymous account I keep for emergencies. I've never seen anyone cry out of happiness like that. It's also been a long time since I've been hugged, kissed, or thanked. All I wanted was not to be kicked out with my chest half cut open.
November 1stThe money I paid her has enabled Sofia to do a lot more work on me then expected. She is a master surgeon, and with the right tools she's able to work swiftly and accurately on my broken body. According to her it isn't all that broken, just neglected. I told her about some of the things I went through and she laughed. Apparently the surgeon that had originally sewn me up had been careless with his stitches. Most of the scar tissue just needed to be repositioned and treated appropriately. I'm in the middle of a long stint of therapy, and my waking hours are filled with either surgery (which she refuses to knock me out for. She does give me enough pain killers that I don't mind being cut open though, something that is a little unsettling when I think about it.) or moving around to prevent my muscles from weakening.
November 29thI have gotten accustomed to the daily routine my life has taken up. In the morning I wake up and take some medicine. Sofia replaces the IV bag and helps me up. I try to walk around the room and then lift some light weights to keep my arm muscles from turning into flabby rubber bands. Then she gives me some mushy brownish food. It's sweet and warm, but best of all I don't have to throw it up an hour later. That's one thing I'm very glad she was able to fix, I nearly forgot how great it is to eat.
After that I watch the news and then get a shower. Well, I sit in the shower because I can neither stand or be submerged. Bathwater could cause infection, and that's the last thing I need. After that I either go into surgery or have stitches replaced, repositioned, or inspected.
Lunch is more brown stuff, then I can go to the main room of the building if I want. There I could read one of the books, watch the other people, or look out the much larger window. For dinner there is even more sweet mush, though she does give me some jelly in it sometimes at dinner.
I'm exhausted from just this little bit of activity, and normally just fall asleep after a few minutes of quiet regardless of the time of day. At night I do put myself into a bit of a trance to keep from waking at the slightest noise.
December 3rdI feel great, even if I still can't walk or eat anything more substantial then that mushy brown food she gives me. I can breath so much easier, and am defiantly getting stronger. Sofia doesn't trust artificial body parts, and so is not content with simply re-attaching all the electronics to me and saying I'm cured. She practices the older forms of medicine that call for "reconstruction and replacement of human parts, not the building droids." I like the results, even if it is taking a lot longer. She has decided that she can't ever repay me for the money I gave her, and is doing her best work.
December 25thToday is some kind of holiday here. In the past weeks everything I can see though my window has been decorated red and green. Lights are everywhere and there is a large tree covered in decorations, and last night presents were packed beneath it. This morning Sofia came in with a package for me. It was a set of real clothes, not the hospital gown I have been wearing. They fit perfectly, though I don't know where I'd ever use them. I'm always in uniform.
January 1stSofia brought all of her patients to a New Year party in the main hall of the small hospital. It was alright for a bunch of sick people. An old lady was talking to me for a wile. She seemed to think I was a "strong enough young man" and that she probably wouldn't get to see the next winter. I didn't answer, but she didn't seem to care. She said that Sofia could try as much as she wanted, there just wasn't a cure for being worn out. I wore the clothes Sofia gave me.
The strangest thing was one little boy that came up and sat next to me for an hour before speaking. He asked me if I had bad midi-clorians too. It took me a moment to realize he had spoken through the force. I asked him what he meant by that and he looked straight into my eyes and asked me the same thing again. He then said that he was brought there because his body had lots of "those little things" and it got him in a lot of trouble. I told him that I did have a lot, but that I was there because my ship crashed. He smiled and said that he should be going home soon.
January 8thI feel horrible again. Sofia has toned down my medication, she says that I should try to live with as little medication as possible. Supposedly it will make my healing go faster. I sleep a lot so I don't have to ache all the time.
January 19thShe was right, I did get used to living without all the pain killers. I'll be here for months still, but Sofia thinks I will be able to live with minimum assistance. I have been told that before, and then she said that an inhaler would be all I'd need. She demonstrated to me what I would need at the end if all went well, and I was stunned. It would fit in the front hip pocket of a standard uniform! Then once a night I might have to use this thing . . . it sprayed a mist of medicated air that I would breath for a half hour to an hour, depending on how bad things are, and is called a nebula-something or other. I have needed an atmosphere suit and respirator for the past five years. The idea of living without it is amazing.
February 3rdI've been either asleep or too far sedated to write. I've never been a quitter so I think I'll write when I can even though I have other things to occupy me. I find I have even begun to enjoy this. I can walk again, without any help. I've been walking around the garden in back of the hospital, and that's where I'm writing this. It reminds me of the garden Ami kept. I've been thinking of her often actually. I miss her. That's nothing new, but being alone a lot and outside of the military . . . I guess I just have too much free time on my hands. Normally I can just immerse myself in my work, then I don't have to think of her. I've been too wrapped up in everything to realize it, but I'm lonely.
~ So what do you think? What is happening to our beloved sith lord? There are two endings to this story, and I will post both over the next few days, as this is not a long one. Enjoy!
