This little life
"Young girl don't cry, I'll be right here when your world starts to fall"
I sat at her side for as long as I could get away with, hypnotised by the steady sounds of the air entering and leaving her body, the drone of the heart monitor and the ticking of the clock on the wall in her private room. Time rolled past and eventually a nurse came in and very politely told me to get the hell outta there.
I drove around in the rain for what felt like hours, not really knowing where I was headed, but yet somehow I ended up at her place. Pulling up the drive, I switch off the engine and stare at the dark dwelling for a few moments. It looks just like its owner, lifeless and abandoned.
Reaching over, I open the glove compartment and fumble around for a moment, until my hand finally grasps the item I am searching for; a shiny gold key sits amongst my fingers. She gave this key to me the day Daniel went missing a few years ago. Said that one day I might need it for the same reasons as we had needed his key. She didn't want me to have to pick the lock.
I grab my coat and try to get it on whilst in a sitting position, and finally succeeding I open the door to my truck and brave the heavy downpour. When I reach the step I quickly put the key in the lock and turn it. The door opens with ease and I step inside; locating the light switch using a combination of memory, common sense and touch. The lights flick into life for the first time in months, and the brightness takes me by surprise, causing me to blink.
It doesn't take long to adjust to the illumination and I venture deeper into the house. Unlike mine, her stuff seems as though it would have been the day she left. I walk through the lounge; her sofa still has a copy of vogue laid open at an article about shoes. The remains of a tube of ice cream are left on the coffee table, complete with spoon, and a rental video box is on the floor near the TV. I bend down and hit the rewind button on the VCR, reading the box as the machine clicks into action. "Sleepless in Seattle, starring Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks." The VRC finishes and ejects the tape, prompting me to place it back in its box. "Huh, gonna have a pretty big fine on that." I note as I place it on the table and take the empty ice cream carton to the trash can in the kitchen, throwing the spoon in the sink to join the unwashed coffee cup now creating its own life.
I turn on the hot tape and nothing happens. "That's weird." I say out loud, but then it dawns on me, the water must have been cut off either after no one paid the bill or the SGC reported her as missing. The washing up can wait. The bedroom is my next stop. Her bed is unmade, the imprint of her head is still indented on the pillow, and the phone next to her bed flashes with new messages. I hit the play button and go into the bathroom.
"Hi Sam, its Mark. Listen, I haven't heard from ya in a while, and I'm getting a bit worried. I'm sure your ok, but just, ya know.. Call me. Soon."
Surely someone told him? I find her wash bag in the cupboard above the sink and put her toothbrush and a new flannel from the airing cupboard in it, then go back to her room.
"Hi, this is a message for Sam Carter. It's James at 'Lets go' garage. Just to remind you your car is due for a service; if you call me back I'll book that in for you. You have my number. Bye!"
James? She has he's number does she? I feel a tinge of jealousy rung through me, but that is quickly replaced as I open the top drawer to her dresser. My body reacts as any red blooded males would but I quickly curse myself. Not the time or place to be getting into that state of mind. I pick out a few pairs on panties and there matching bars and place them in a bag I pull down from the top of the wardrobe, brushing the dust off first.
"Hey Sam, its Paula, sorry I wasn't in last night mate, I was out with that guy, you know, Harry, from the restaurant down town, that Italian place, oh god what was it called.arg, nope, can't remember, anyways, he's even hotter when he's not in the waiters outfit, if ya know what I mean! Look, call me ok, I have so much to tell you! Bye babe!"
Who the hell is Paula? Paula, Paula, oh, Paula! I vaguely remember her mentioning a girl she went to high school with, maybe it's her. I open the next draw down and pick out some warm looking socks, throw them in the bag and go to the next draw.
"Hi, this is Kelly from 'Your faves' just reminding you that you haven't returned the film you borrowed on the 29th of July. It's 'sleepless in Seattle' if you could return it ASAP, we'd be grateful, thanks."
"Opps." I mutter as I pick out two night dresses and a pair of pyjamas.
Looking in the bag on her bed, I try to think what else she might need.
"End of messages."
That's when I see it. A picture of the four of us, taken at Lt. Simmons birthday party, last year, sitting on the top of her dresser. I pick up the heavy frame and run my fingers over her; she looked so happy and well. My stomach does a summersault. What if she never walks again? What if I never get to hear her speak again, say my name? I did that to her, because I'm selfish, because I couldn't let her go. I sink down on the bed as my legs give out on me. Holding the picture tight against my chest, my eyes sting. I have been trying not to let this happen; not show my fear and play the strong soldier, but I can't hold it in anymore. Why should I? The truth is every second she was in that room, I felt so much terror and gut wrenching pain, and yet I was so numb. How can that even happen? Tears leave my eyes and burn a path on my cheeks. If she doesn't get better.I'll never forgive myself. Holding on to the picture tighter for a few seconds as if it were my life line, I take a deep breath and push the emotion back down. Anyone will tell you it's not good to bottle it up, but anyone isn't going through this. I would give anything to change places with her, to take that pain on myself. She shouldn't have to be the one lying in that bed with tubes and machines attached to her. It should be me.
I drop the picture on the bed beside me and zip up the bag before heading back into the hallway, unable to think of anything else she might want. Once downstairs again I pick up her mail and bundle it in my pocket, go into the kitchen and turn off the light, pick the video up off the table and then out the light in the lunge as I leave her house, behind, locking the door on my way out.
Back in my truck I am not sure what to do now. I can't go back to the hospital, and I don't want to go home until I know the only thing I will do is sleep. Looking at the video on the passenger seat I decide the first thing I should so is take that back to where it came from. So that's what I do. A 10 minute drive and almost $40 poorer I walk into the bar opposite the video shop. I grab a beer and sit in the corner, hoping the drink will numb the pain, at least until the morning. I am too tired to feel the raw emotion at the moment. Unfortunately I still have to drive home, so I stop short of being totally drunk and settle for finishing my pursuit of this at home.
**
A beeping noise pounds in my head. Opening my eyes, it takes me a moment to remember where I am. Looking around I immediately regret moving my head as a sharp pain shots through my neck.
Something is pushing air into my lungs, aggravating my own attempts to do so. I begin to choke slightly, and before I know it, there's a hand on my forehead claming me down.
"It's ok Sam. We had to give you a tracheostomy, but it's not permanent. Dr. Murphy will come and see you later and tell you when he wants to remove it. How are you feeling?" Janet's smiling face from the end of my bed questions. I make to respond by no sound comes out. I forgot.
"Don't worry. Once your throat heals we will start speech therapy to get your voice back. I am going to do a couple of tests. Nod if you can feel this." She takes a pin from her pocket the pulls back the dusty green blanket covering my feet. I can see her pressing the pin into my big toe on my left foot. I close my eyes and concentrate. Relief floods my body like a wave as I block out all the other pain and feel the tiny stab.
"Good. And this?" she repeats the process on my right foot. I nod.
"Great. With a little help, you'll be up on your feet again in no time." Moving around the bed she takes my hands and squeezes each finger, one at a time. "I know your neck is hurting, so just nod if you can't feel any fingers, ok?"
I give a tiny acknowledgement and watch. Thumb, index finger, middle finger, ring finger, baby finger. I nod. I can't feel my little finger. On either of my hands.
"That's ok. You have most of the feeling back, which is good. I am confident the feeling in these two will come back in time. The nervous system is a very complicated thing. Try not to worry." She smiles, takes the pen out of her top pocket and writes something on the chart lying on top of the machines I am connected to.
A line pouring crimson blood into my body aches slightly, its position in the crease of my arm sensitive to its new found feeling. The soreness is more reassuring than troublesome. Janet puts her clipboard down and lifts back the dressing on my wound.
"This looks good. It's healing nicely. The stitches can come out in a couple of weeks. In the mean time I'll put a new dressing on there for you, and see to that." She says pointing to where the tube slices through my throat. "It has to be cleaned." she adds.
TBC
Short chapter. Hopefully Jack is showing some more emotion now. My muse has left me for a while it appears! Or maybe it's just that I have a cold? Either way, with any luck it won't be for long. I don't want to write it half heartedly coz it would be pants if I did that! As always, thanks for the feedback, and happy thanks giving to all you Americans. Not being American I have to wait until Christmas for my turkey, so make the most of it, you lucky people!
P.S. I am not a doctor and I am trying my best with this medical speak, so thanks for being patient with me! *smiles and waves*
"Young girl don't cry, I'll be right here when your world starts to fall"
I sat at her side for as long as I could get away with, hypnotised by the steady sounds of the air entering and leaving her body, the drone of the heart monitor and the ticking of the clock on the wall in her private room. Time rolled past and eventually a nurse came in and very politely told me to get the hell outta there.
I drove around in the rain for what felt like hours, not really knowing where I was headed, but yet somehow I ended up at her place. Pulling up the drive, I switch off the engine and stare at the dark dwelling for a few moments. It looks just like its owner, lifeless and abandoned.
Reaching over, I open the glove compartment and fumble around for a moment, until my hand finally grasps the item I am searching for; a shiny gold key sits amongst my fingers. She gave this key to me the day Daniel went missing a few years ago. Said that one day I might need it for the same reasons as we had needed his key. She didn't want me to have to pick the lock.
I grab my coat and try to get it on whilst in a sitting position, and finally succeeding I open the door to my truck and brave the heavy downpour. When I reach the step I quickly put the key in the lock and turn it. The door opens with ease and I step inside; locating the light switch using a combination of memory, common sense and touch. The lights flick into life for the first time in months, and the brightness takes me by surprise, causing me to blink.
It doesn't take long to adjust to the illumination and I venture deeper into the house. Unlike mine, her stuff seems as though it would have been the day she left. I walk through the lounge; her sofa still has a copy of vogue laid open at an article about shoes. The remains of a tube of ice cream are left on the coffee table, complete with spoon, and a rental video box is on the floor near the TV. I bend down and hit the rewind button on the VCR, reading the box as the machine clicks into action. "Sleepless in Seattle, starring Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks." The VRC finishes and ejects the tape, prompting me to place it back in its box. "Huh, gonna have a pretty big fine on that." I note as I place it on the table and take the empty ice cream carton to the trash can in the kitchen, throwing the spoon in the sink to join the unwashed coffee cup now creating its own life.
I turn on the hot tape and nothing happens. "That's weird." I say out loud, but then it dawns on me, the water must have been cut off either after no one paid the bill or the SGC reported her as missing. The washing up can wait. The bedroom is my next stop. Her bed is unmade, the imprint of her head is still indented on the pillow, and the phone next to her bed flashes with new messages. I hit the play button and go into the bathroom.
"Hi Sam, its Mark. Listen, I haven't heard from ya in a while, and I'm getting a bit worried. I'm sure your ok, but just, ya know.. Call me. Soon."
Surely someone told him? I find her wash bag in the cupboard above the sink and put her toothbrush and a new flannel from the airing cupboard in it, then go back to her room.
"Hi, this is a message for Sam Carter. It's James at 'Lets go' garage. Just to remind you your car is due for a service; if you call me back I'll book that in for you. You have my number. Bye!"
James? She has he's number does she? I feel a tinge of jealousy rung through me, but that is quickly replaced as I open the top drawer to her dresser. My body reacts as any red blooded males would but I quickly curse myself. Not the time or place to be getting into that state of mind. I pick out a few pairs on panties and there matching bars and place them in a bag I pull down from the top of the wardrobe, brushing the dust off first.
"Hey Sam, its Paula, sorry I wasn't in last night mate, I was out with that guy, you know, Harry, from the restaurant down town, that Italian place, oh god what was it called.arg, nope, can't remember, anyways, he's even hotter when he's not in the waiters outfit, if ya know what I mean! Look, call me ok, I have so much to tell you! Bye babe!"
Who the hell is Paula? Paula, Paula, oh, Paula! I vaguely remember her mentioning a girl she went to high school with, maybe it's her. I open the next draw down and pick out some warm looking socks, throw them in the bag and go to the next draw.
"Hi, this is Kelly from 'Your faves' just reminding you that you haven't returned the film you borrowed on the 29th of July. It's 'sleepless in Seattle' if you could return it ASAP, we'd be grateful, thanks."
"Opps." I mutter as I pick out two night dresses and a pair of pyjamas.
Looking in the bag on her bed, I try to think what else she might need.
"End of messages."
That's when I see it. A picture of the four of us, taken at Lt. Simmons birthday party, last year, sitting on the top of her dresser. I pick up the heavy frame and run my fingers over her; she looked so happy and well. My stomach does a summersault. What if she never walks again? What if I never get to hear her speak again, say my name? I did that to her, because I'm selfish, because I couldn't let her go. I sink down on the bed as my legs give out on me. Holding the picture tight against my chest, my eyes sting. I have been trying not to let this happen; not show my fear and play the strong soldier, but I can't hold it in anymore. Why should I? The truth is every second she was in that room, I felt so much terror and gut wrenching pain, and yet I was so numb. How can that even happen? Tears leave my eyes and burn a path on my cheeks. If she doesn't get better.I'll never forgive myself. Holding on to the picture tighter for a few seconds as if it were my life line, I take a deep breath and push the emotion back down. Anyone will tell you it's not good to bottle it up, but anyone isn't going through this. I would give anything to change places with her, to take that pain on myself. She shouldn't have to be the one lying in that bed with tubes and machines attached to her. It should be me.
I drop the picture on the bed beside me and zip up the bag before heading back into the hallway, unable to think of anything else she might want. Once downstairs again I pick up her mail and bundle it in my pocket, go into the kitchen and turn off the light, pick the video up off the table and then out the light in the lunge as I leave her house, behind, locking the door on my way out.
Back in my truck I am not sure what to do now. I can't go back to the hospital, and I don't want to go home until I know the only thing I will do is sleep. Looking at the video on the passenger seat I decide the first thing I should so is take that back to where it came from. So that's what I do. A 10 minute drive and almost $40 poorer I walk into the bar opposite the video shop. I grab a beer and sit in the corner, hoping the drink will numb the pain, at least until the morning. I am too tired to feel the raw emotion at the moment. Unfortunately I still have to drive home, so I stop short of being totally drunk and settle for finishing my pursuit of this at home.
**
A beeping noise pounds in my head. Opening my eyes, it takes me a moment to remember where I am. Looking around I immediately regret moving my head as a sharp pain shots through my neck.
Something is pushing air into my lungs, aggravating my own attempts to do so. I begin to choke slightly, and before I know it, there's a hand on my forehead claming me down.
"It's ok Sam. We had to give you a tracheostomy, but it's not permanent. Dr. Murphy will come and see you later and tell you when he wants to remove it. How are you feeling?" Janet's smiling face from the end of my bed questions. I make to respond by no sound comes out. I forgot.
"Don't worry. Once your throat heals we will start speech therapy to get your voice back. I am going to do a couple of tests. Nod if you can feel this." She takes a pin from her pocket the pulls back the dusty green blanket covering my feet. I can see her pressing the pin into my big toe on my left foot. I close my eyes and concentrate. Relief floods my body like a wave as I block out all the other pain and feel the tiny stab.
"Good. And this?" she repeats the process on my right foot. I nod.
"Great. With a little help, you'll be up on your feet again in no time." Moving around the bed she takes my hands and squeezes each finger, one at a time. "I know your neck is hurting, so just nod if you can't feel any fingers, ok?"
I give a tiny acknowledgement and watch. Thumb, index finger, middle finger, ring finger, baby finger. I nod. I can't feel my little finger. On either of my hands.
"That's ok. You have most of the feeling back, which is good. I am confident the feeling in these two will come back in time. The nervous system is a very complicated thing. Try not to worry." She smiles, takes the pen out of her top pocket and writes something on the chart lying on top of the machines I am connected to.
A line pouring crimson blood into my body aches slightly, its position in the crease of my arm sensitive to its new found feeling. The soreness is more reassuring than troublesome. Janet puts her clipboard down and lifts back the dressing on my wound.
"This looks good. It's healing nicely. The stitches can come out in a couple of weeks. In the mean time I'll put a new dressing on there for you, and see to that." She says pointing to where the tube slices through my throat. "It has to be cleaned." she adds.
TBC
Short chapter. Hopefully Jack is showing some more emotion now. My muse has left me for a while it appears! Or maybe it's just that I have a cold? Either way, with any luck it won't be for long. I don't want to write it half heartedly coz it would be pants if I did that! As always, thanks for the feedback, and happy thanks giving to all you Americans. Not being American I have to wait until Christmas for my turkey, so make the most of it, you lucky people!
P.S. I am not a doctor and I am trying my best with this medical speak, so thanks for being patient with me! *smiles and waves*