Chapter 3
When I woke up, the second nurse was sitting next to my bed, sewing Petite Dragon's head back onto his body. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor and the gentle hum of the second nurse's sewing was enough to soothe me back to sleep.
When I woke up again, no one was in the room with me, but my Petite Dragon was lying next to me, his neck wrapped in a bandage. I sat up slowly, only to realize that I was still hooked up to a heart monitor. Additionally, I could hear commotion coming from the hallway. I pushed the blanket off of me and used the IV stand as a makeshift cane, hobbling towards the door to see what was happening.
What I witnessed was deeply upsetting. The first nurse was tearing up the other children's toys while they watched, seemingly indifferent to their distress. I was about to speak up when the second nurse entered the room, followed by a doctor.
"Ms. Sora, that is enough. If you continue this behavior, I will have to report you," the doctor said, firmly pulling the first nurse's hands away from a stuffed bear that a teenage boy, a few years older than me, was trying to retrieve. However, a couple of orderlies were holding him back.
I could see that the first nurse was about to blame the teenager for tearing up everyone's toys, but I abruptly swung open the sliding door, startling everyone in the main room. The doctor, nurses, and orderlies all paused to look at me.
"Fuyuko, are you alright? You should be in bed," the second nurse said, trying to guide me back to my bed. However, I shrugged her off. I refused to let the first nurse scapegoat someone else.
"I heard a commotion, so I got up to see what was going on... I saw that Nurse Sora was tearing up everyone's toys," I managed to say, struggling to get the words out. By the end of my sentence, I found myself sitting on the floor, my legs giving way beneath me. My head would have hit the floor if the doctor hadn't caught me in time.
"Doctor, you can't trust Ms. Fujiki... she has been to three other mental health facilities. Plus, she tore out her IV just so she wouldn't have to go to a foster home," the first nurse interjected, pointing a finger at me. At first, I was confused, but soon a security guard entered the room with a tablet in hand.
"I'll get to the bottom of this right now. Ms. Fujiki... no, Fuyuko, why don't you go with Naomi and get some rest? And next time you want to get out of bed, please use the call button, and we will assist you. Naomi, administer 20ccs," the doctor instructed, lifting me off the floor and placing me in a wheelchair brought over by a third orderly. The second nurse and the third orderly accompanied me back to the room I had come from, settling me back into bed with Petite Dragon nestled under my arm.
"Are you alright, Fuyuko? Does anything hurt?" the second nurse asked, checking me over. She stopped only when the first nurse entered the room, carrying a tray of food. The first nurse wore a smug expression as she placed the tray on the table in front of me, clearly trying to hide her satisfaction at getting the upper hand.
"Now, Ms. Fujiki, make sure you eat it all. This was prepared just for you," the first nurse said, lifting the lid covering the food. What I saw sent me spiraling into a state of panic. On the tray was a ham and cheese sandwich and a juice box. I immediately threw the tray at the nurse's feet, screaming all the while. The orderly had to hold me down to prevent me from pulling out my IV or ripping off the sensors attached to my chest and stomach. The doctor, along with the security guard from earlier, rushed into the room, startled by the commotion.
"I don't know what happened. All I did was bring her something to eat, and then she started to freak out," the first nurse said, feigning innocence. However, by now, I had managed to calm down enough to speak in fragmented sentences.
"You brought me a ham and cheese sandwich... I can't eat those... I feel like I'm choking," I managed to articulate, while the second nurse gently stroked my hair away from my face. The doctor glanced between me and the first nurse before leaving the room. He returned shortly, a file tucked under his arm.
"Okay, let's see here... Fuyuko Fujiki, at the ages of six, nine, twelve, and now fourteen, has been placed in four different mental health facilities," the doctor began, reading through the records. "The first time was after she attempted suicide... During that time, the doctors discovered that she had difficulty eating certain foods, like ham and cheese. It was revealed that her previous foster family would force-feed her to the point of choking and struggling to breathe... I'm certain I put in an order to ensure Ms. Fujiki wouldn't receive any such foods. She is supposed to be given soup, fruits, and vegetables."
As the doctor spoke, I fought to keep my eyes from closing, feeling the weariness creeping over me. The second nurse continued to stroke my hair, but after a few attempts, I managed to push her hand away. I didn't want her to discover that I had a fever. I knew what they did to the children who fell ill in these facilities—most were sent to isolation rooms for weeks on end, even after recovering.
However, before I could conceal it, the need to cough overwhelmed me, sending my frail body into a fit of coughing. I leaned back on the thin pillows, trying to catch my breath, while the second nurse handed me a glass of water.
"Are you okay, Ms. Fujiki?" the doctor inquired once my coughing had subsided. I remained reclined, partially closing my eyes, as the second nurse adjusted the bed to a 45-degree angle, ensuring optimal oxygen intake. I lay there, observing as the two adults left the room, presumably to discuss something in the hallway. They didn't leave me alone for more than five or ten minutes, but when they returned, the second nurse carried several items with her.
"Okay, Fuyuko, I'm just going to draw some blood real quick so we can run some tests," the second nurse informed me, positioning herself next to me on the bed, holding a needle and a vial. I glanced between her and the doctor, who appeared genuinely concerned. I extended my left hand to allow her to proceed, while stealing a glance at my stuffed dragon on the nightstand. The orderly had moved it earlier to ensure I didn't lie on it. If I were to be moved into isolation, would I be allowed to keep Petite Dragon, or would he be given to another child? I had witnessed that happen before—a little boy I knew when I was nine was sent to isolation, and his favorite toy was given to another child after two weeks of no one seeing him. Later, I found out he had been transferred to a long-term facility.
"Okay, I will send this off to the labs. Dr. Fujimata, could you watch over Fuyuko for a few minutes?" the second nurse requested, stepping out of the room, leaving the doctor to sit in a chair beside the bed. We sat in silence for a few minutes before the doctor cleared his throat.
"We didn't get a chance to formally introduce ourselves. I'm Doctor Sai Fujimata, one of the doctors at this facility," he said, extending his hand for a handshake. I observed him from head to toe. He was a tall, young man with neatly styled brown hair and sharp gray eyes. He wore a plain blue button-up shirt and black slacks. He appeared handsome, but he wasn't my type. The second nurse swiftly reentered the room, holding a coloring book and colored pencils in her hands.
"I'm Fuyuko Fujiki, age 14," I replied, turning my attention to the heavy window covers. However, the second nurse and the doctor seemed to notice and promptly threw open the covers, allowing sunlight to flood the room. I was situated at ground level, so I could peer outside and observe people going about their day. Children played under the watchful eyes of the nurses, while older patients walked along the paths surrounding the outdoor area.
"Do you enjoy watching people, Fuyuko?" Dr. Fujimata inquired, shifting his chair closer to the bed. I glanced at him before slowly nodding my head. My movements and thoughts felt sluggish, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep my eyes open.
"You're not feeling well, are you, Fuyuko?" the second nurse asked, gently stroking my hair away from my face. I looked up at her, confused, until I succumbed to darkness. When I woke up, I was lying on the bed with my head raised, while the second nurse worked quietly next to me, repairing all the toys that the first nurse had torn apart. Gone was the repetitive beeping of the heart monitor, and the room was quieter and cooler than before I fell asleep. I slowly sat up, rubbing my eyes with both hands, only to experience a sharp pain in my left arm. I glanced down to find a tube protruding from my upper arm, just above my elbow. I would have pulled it out if the second nurse hadn't stopped me.
"No, Fuyuko, you can't pull out the tube. That's how we're delivering the medicine you need," the second nurse firmly stated, gently pulling my hands away from the tube. I looked at her, feeling scared and confused, but I obediently lay back down on the bed, keeping my hands at my side, waiting for her to explain everything to me.
"First things first, how are you feeling, Fuyuko? Do you still have a fever?" the second nurse asked, settling back into her chair. I looked at her, perplexed. What did my fever have to do with the tube in my arm?
"I don't understand," I replied, sitting up on the bed again, tilting my head to one side. I reached for the glass of water on the bedside table to moisten my dry mouth. The second nurse observed me for a moment before setting her needle and thread down, preparing to clarify everything.
"Fuyuko, you developed a high fever almost a week ago. The fever was caused by an infection from injuries on your back and stomach. During that week, we spoke with your adoptive father, and he gave us permission to insert a catheter called a peripherally inserted central catheter line (PICC line) to spare your veins from multiple needle sticks. The catheter allows us to administer the necessary medication to your system without causing you excessive pain. Repeated needle sticks were taking a toll on your body," the second nurse explained, taking my hand gently in hers. I felt relieved that she was the one by my side when I woke up, rather than the first nurse, as I was certain the latter would have allowed me to yank the tube out of my arm. I sighed and lay back down, lightly rubbing my arm, but the second nurse quickly pulled my hand away from my elbow.
"You need to be careful, Fuyuko. Now, let me give you some guidelines for the PICC line. We need to flush it every other day. It should not get wet because it could potentially lead to an infection since the PICC line is connected to your heart. You can perform some activities with your left arm, but try to avoid strenuous exercise that could dislodge the PICC line. Additionally, you should not lift anything heavier than five pounds. Do you have any questions, Fuyuko?" the second nurse said, retrieving a list from the bedside table and handing it to me so I could read it myself. I looked it over before returning it to her, unsure if I would fully comprehend it at the moment due to my clouded state of mind.
"Are you alright, Fuyuko? Your file mentioned that you were eager to learn about your condition," the second nurse asked, leaning forward in her seat. I shook my head, feeling the fever intensify since the last time I was awake. On top of that, I felt a wave of nausea building up. I didn't even have a chance to inform the second nurse before I leaned over the left side of the bed and vomited, even though my stomach was empty. The urge to vomit and the subsequent pain were relentless. By the end, I was hanging weakly over the side of the bed, exhausted and moaning in pain. It was difficult for me to find any relief because I felt absolutely dreadful.
"I'll arrange for someone to clean this up while I help you get a bath. It might help alleviate your fever. Don't try to move around until your stomach settles, Fuyuko," the second nurse said, pressing the button above my bed before rising from her seat and leaving the room. When she returned, I still hung limply off the side of the bed, breathing heavily through my nose in an attempt to prevent another bout of vomiting.
"Oh, Fuyuko, let me assist you in sitting up. I brought a bucket in case you need it later. Ms. Sora will take care of the cleanup with one of the hospital's volunteers," the second nurse said, helping me sit up and pointing at the two women in the doorway. I had to squint to make them out. One was the first nurse, and the other was a slender blonde woman with brown eyes who regarded me with pity. In that moment, all I wanted was to throw something at her because I didn't need her pity. For all we knew, this could be the flu, and like every other time, I just happened to experience the worst symptoms.
"I can't believe I have to deal with this on my day off," the first nurse, Ms. Sora, grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest while the other woman began cleaning up the mess. The volunteer was nearly finished when I had to reach for the bucket again and vomit once more. I would have been alarmed by the hand on my back, but I was already preoccupied. When I finished being sick, the volunteer tried to offer me a glass of water to settle my stomach, but I pushed it away as the thought only made me feel worse.
"You'll be alright, sweetheart. I know you don't feel like drinking, but staying hydrated is important," the volunteer said, surprising both the first and second nurses.
"Dr. Saito, what are you doing here?" the first nurse asked, astonished. I glanced over at the woman, confused because she didn't look like a doctor. If anything, she seemed far too beautiful to be dealing with sickness and death.
"I always volunteer on my days off. I enjoy working with children in both the hospital and mental facility. Is there a problem with that?" the volunteer, or rather, the doctor, next to me said, still rubbing my back in an attempt to calm me down. I leaned forward again and vomited into the bucket, feeling the harshness of the stomach acid in my throat. The doctor and second nurse hurried to my side, trying to make me feel better, while the first nurse stood in the doorway, appearing proud of something. I had a nagging suspicion that she was the reason I was experiencing this sickness. After vomiting for the third time, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the pillows. It was then that I noticed a subtle scent emanating from the glass of water—it smelled like Lantana. The look on the first nurse's face suddenly made sense. There was one flaw in her plan, though—I was well-versed in poisonous plants and flowers. I looked at the second nurse and gestured towards my throat, trying to indicate that I was thirsty.
"Here, Fuyuko, you need to keep drinking... Fuyuko, what's wrong?" the second nurse asked, pushing the glass of water towards me. I quickly swatted it away, along with a pitcher from the bedside table. As it toppled over, the flower-infused water was revealed to everyone in the room.
"What is this?" the doctor-turned-volunteer asked, moving to pick up the small cluster of flowers that had been in the pitcher of water. However, I stopped her before she could do so.
"You can't touch that. It's poisonous, and you have to be careful. It can cause a rash if you touch it with your bare hands. Lantana is even deadly if ingested, but fortunately for me, the poison was diluted due to being infused with water. If you don't believe me, you can verify with the department of poison control. Also, please ensure that you check Ms. Sora for any rashes on her hands and arms," I warned, leaning forward once again to vomit.