The bright, cold strip lighting glares down on everything making everything glow with a blinding white. The sunlight beaming in only adds to this cold light. The sheets surrounding me itch. My chest is tight with pain. No, it is more of an ache, from both the operation and the feeling of loneliness.
I fall in and out of consciousness. The painkillers are most definitely not non-drowsy.
Family and friends have been visiting all day. One minute they're here then the next minute they're not. I can not be the best company at this time. The amount of flowers around my bedside is growing. I could open a florist. Each time I wake I find a note next to me, telling me that one of my friends will nip back in an hour or two when I'm less sleepy.
About an hour ago now, I had a call from Dawson. He'd spoken to Bessie and wanted to wish me well and to tell me he'd be in Boston soon to see me. A few months ago I would have been ecstatic at the thought of him coming home for me. But now, I, rather ungratefully, only want one person by my side.
I thought that after this operation a weight would be lifted from off of me. But I am more scared now than I was before the operation. Because of my drowsiness and inability to stay awake, I personally haven't spoken to the doctor so I don't know the outcome of the surgery. This only causes me to feel more alone, because relatives and friends may know but I don't. And it makes me feel empty, like it is something I should know to make me feel complete.
Despite my emptiness and loneliness, I am happy. The floral and card display around me brightens up the otherwise bare hospital room. Each bouquet was picked especially for me and it makes me feel loved. And this feeling will stay with me, even throughout my sleep and until I wake next.
Outside the cold moon stares back at me as my eyes flutter open from their latest rest. The hospital feels still. My room glows with a dim light and as I adjust to my altered location a voice floats into my conscious.