The next few days went by in a blur. I got out of the hospital (finally) and back to the mineshafts and open fields where I was meant to be. The cold air called me out further, but something in the back of my mind prevented me from going further.
Everything around me was falling to pieces. Caitlin needed to be transferred to the ER for severe asthma attacks that lead to severe seizures. (Yet she keeps telling me that she's fine.) Kyle attempted suicide and, I would imagine, feels scared and confused in the psych ward. Andreas was angry about his friend being whisked off to some unknown place. Andrew's skin picking got worse. He needed to get ten stitches on his left hand and thirteen on his right. Mark was grieving the death of his cousin in the village attacks. Apparently, they were very close.
I still needed to order the cake, more decorations, and practice my part for "World's End Dancehall", the duet we planned to play in lieu of a first dance. The song Everything's Alright was a knife to the heart. Nothing is alright. Not now. It will never be. Mira, a freshman flute, needed a major surgery. When she left, she gave me a hug and headed out the door smiling with her usual enthusiasm. Mira is naturally very happy, even under the worst of circumstances. She gave me a stuffed pig with music notes stitched in the side. Mira is like an older Alex, but with brown hair instead of red.
Speaking of Alex, she came to the door selling chocolate. I bought the rest of it. Since this was the end of her route, she told me she needed a hug.
"Why?" I asked. Her normally bubbly face turned serious suddenly, a cue that I should listen.
"Do you know how it feels when your life is falling apart?" I needed to protect this girl. She should not feel like this, not at this tender young age. "Well, all my friends are dead, dying, sick, or sad."
"That must be hard." I put my arm around Alex and embraced her as if she were my own daughter. She cried on my shoulder, heaving sobs. I needed to protect this girl. Caitlin is the closest thing Alex has to a mother. It would do her good knowing that I was taking care of her (along with Jordan, but I'm slightly less useless at emotions than he is). I made some hot chocolate for Alex, not the insipid brown powder that doesn't even taste like chocolate, but hot chocolate that required me to use actual chocolate. This is the only thing I can make that doesn't taste horrible afterwards.
We drank the hot chocolate to our friends and mentors, that they would get better soon. With warmer souls, we ended up playing games and fighting zombies together for the rest of the day.
Saturday, March 26, 2016
Friday, March 25, 2016
A Cold Night (Caitlin)
I comforted Steve after he had to get his blood drawn. As brave as he is, he hates needles and gets very anxious around them. He is fine supporting me and making sure I don't faint too hard, but, when it is his skin getting pricked, he panics. Badly.
He was still shaking afterwards. I placed my hand on his arm trying to get it to stop. He pulled me closer and looked at me with the same pained expression I look at him with when I am hospitalized. Hospitals suck. The papery, insipid blankets are merely for modesty and are not warm at all. The bed moves at random intervals. People keep waking you up in the middle of the night to check your vitals and other whatnot. It's boring. I understood why Steve hated it here. He would much rather be conducting his band, duelling with skeletons, and planning our wedding. The conditions of a hospital did not allow for any of that.
I laid my head near his and closed my eyes. This would re-create a familiar, comforting sensation for both of us. Steve put his arm around me, whispered a promise to protect me into my ear, and his trembling lessened. His breath was acrid; but I didn't mind. He was alive and in relatively good condition. That I was infinitely grateful for. However, I began to feel sick. I took on his pain like a sack full of cobblestone. He kissed my cheek and I resumed my position in the chair. A flock of nurses took him away, presumably for testing. I could sense his apprehension.
I got up and left and, as soon as I had entered the main area, I saw Adrian depart from the hematology department. Sylvia, Emilia, and a man I presumed to be Emilia's and Adrian's father were with him this time. We ended up talking.
"Oh, hi Caitlin! Are you out of the hospital?"
"I'm visiting."
"This is about Steve, isn't it? We've been missing him at rehearsal!" I suddenly clammed up and would not speak. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor and staggering back to my feet. I documented it in my purple notebook.
When I got home, I took out my bow and arrow and started shooting. I wouldn't let Steve come home to a creeper-infested cesspool. Alex came with a box full of chocolate bars.
"Would you like some chocolate? They're two lumps of coal each. Creative Fun is raising money to aid in village repairs." I examined the selection. I ended up buying two caramel, two almond, and three crisp bars. I tried to help the villagers through purchases all I could. That and Alex was selling them. It was the least I could do as her vocal teacher. That and I just really wanted chocolate.
Emmeline to the door an hour later selling apples for the same price. She was raising money so she could go to the band trip. The apples were glossy, red, and firm. I bought six. After she left, I had two of the apples for dinner since I wasn't very hungry. I had a crisp bar for dessert. Shortly after eating that meal, I quickly made my way to the restroom. However, since I could not get my skirt off in time, I had an accident. I was wet already, so my diaper leaked quite a bit. It could have held a second minor wetting, but this was a full-on flooding. It was a good thing no one was around to see it, but I couldn't help feeling mortified. I changed and cleaned up to settle into a lonely night.
At about 2:00 in the morning, I woke up from a nightmare and instinctively tried to wake Steve. When I came to my senses, I wrapped a blanket around myself and sat there in the cold night air waiting for sleep to come. No such luck. Confusion and loneliness surrounded me like the cold night air.
He was still shaking afterwards. I placed my hand on his arm trying to get it to stop. He pulled me closer and looked at me with the same pained expression I look at him with when I am hospitalized. Hospitals suck. The papery, insipid blankets are merely for modesty and are not warm at all. The bed moves at random intervals. People keep waking you up in the middle of the night to check your vitals and other whatnot. It's boring. I understood why Steve hated it here. He would much rather be conducting his band, duelling with skeletons, and planning our wedding. The conditions of a hospital did not allow for any of that.
I laid my head near his and closed my eyes. This would re-create a familiar, comforting sensation for both of us. Steve put his arm around me, whispered a promise to protect me into my ear, and his trembling lessened. His breath was acrid; but I didn't mind. He was alive and in relatively good condition. That I was infinitely grateful for. However, I began to feel sick. I took on his pain like a sack full of cobblestone. He kissed my cheek and I resumed my position in the chair. A flock of nurses took him away, presumably for testing. I could sense his apprehension.
I got up and left and, as soon as I had entered the main area, I saw Adrian depart from the hematology department. Sylvia, Emilia, and a man I presumed to be Emilia's and Adrian's father were with him this time. We ended up talking.
"Oh, hi Caitlin! Are you out of the hospital?"
"I'm visiting."
"This is about Steve, isn't it? We've been missing him at rehearsal!" I suddenly clammed up and would not speak. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor and staggering back to my feet. I documented it in my purple notebook.
When I got home, I took out my bow and arrow and started shooting. I wouldn't let Steve come home to a creeper-infested cesspool. Alex came with a box full of chocolate bars.
"Would you like some chocolate? They're two lumps of coal each. Creative Fun is raising money to aid in village repairs." I examined the selection. I ended up buying two caramel, two almond, and three crisp bars. I tried to help the villagers through purchases all I could. That and Alex was selling them. It was the least I could do as her vocal teacher. That and I just really wanted chocolate.
Emmeline to the door an hour later selling apples for the same price. She was raising money so she could go to the band trip. The apples were glossy, red, and firm. I bought six. After she left, I had two of the apples for dinner since I wasn't very hungry. I had a crisp bar for dessert. Shortly after eating that meal, I quickly made my way to the restroom. However, since I could not get my skirt off in time, I had an accident. I was wet already, so my diaper leaked quite a bit. It could have held a second minor wetting, but this was a full-on flooding. It was a good thing no one was around to see it, but I couldn't help feeling mortified. I changed and cleaned up to settle into a lonely night.
At about 2:00 in the morning, I woke up from a nightmare and instinctively tried to wake Steve. When I came to my senses, I wrapped a blanket around myself and sat there in the cold night air waiting for sleep to come. No such luck. Confusion and loneliness surrounded me like the cold night air.
Monday, March 21, 2016
The Pain of Others (Caitlin)
"Do you know Jordan? Alex's father?"
"Yes. What about him?" It was Cory.
"Did you know that he was a father at the age of 16?" That shocked me. He looked younger than the other Creative Fun parents, but I had always thought it was just him.
"No. I know it's just him and Alex." This was getting awkward really quickly. "I never knew that, though." I could only imagine what he went through. Having hardly the means to support a child with the added stigma would have been difficult. Why does Jordan get no recognition for inspiring others for raising Alex to be the wonderful girl she is while I had an entire article written about me simply for playing and teaching? Alex came to me in tears once because she could not go on the choir trip. The form required two parent signatures. She cried on my shoulder for a while because her choir teacher would not believe her when she said she had only her father. However, her classmate with only a mother was allowed to go. That must have felt very unfair to Alex.
I have met Jordan before. He is a nice man who carries himself with an air of cool indifference. Some people think him antisocial and a misanthropist. However, that is far from true. He has a big heart that he expresses regularly, just not in the way that others think indicates the existence of a heart. Because Steve was the slayer of the Ender Dragon, Jordan repaired his swords for free. This was an act of gratitude he did because he planned to slay the dragon, but didn't because of Alex.
"Well, the mother didn't want to deal with the stigma, so she never even saw Alex. She just left the little girl to Jordan."
"Where did you hear about this?"
"From the villagers. Apparently, they know Alex and her father very well." Since Alex passed fhrough the village often, it would make sense that they would know at least some part of her. Sweet and demonstrative, it would have never occurred to me that Alex had such a past.
It was oddly silent without Steve next to me. My vulnerabilities were once again in my face. I coughed, puffed on my inhaler, and texted Andrew to get a refill on my inhaler. I curled up on the couch with a blanket and entered grades for my students. Adrian e-mailed me telling me that he was alone in a hematologist's office. He said his mother was with Emilia for her routine appointments.
I gathered my things and visited Steve in the hospital. The path was long and winding, of moderate difficulty for the average person. However, due to my decreased endurance and weak legs, it was more akin to a strenuous hike. I made my way over the path with relative ease at first, but I tired quickly. Carrying the bag along with my medical whatnot did not help things yet all.
When I arrived at the hospital, my legs collapsed underneath me right as a nurse was rolling a cart full of sugar/saline bags to a patient. I apologized and quickly crawls out of the way. I signed in at the counter as another nurse escorted me to Steve's room. She said he could keep down anything with the curtain drawn, but could barely keep any food down if there was no curtain.
Seeing him hooked up to nearly everything I had ever been hooked up to made me feel like something was suffocating me and stabbing my heart with a sword at the same time. I took his hand and he scooted next to me as if to reassure me that everything was okay. He held my hand reassuringly, that familiar grip comforting me. I told him about my students' funny antics and about how Alex was improving. He laughed loud and clear.
I started crying despite the promise I made to myself to stay strong. Steve wiped my tears away with his free hand. He turned over, grabbed a tissue, and encouraged me to sit. I obliged as he gazed compassionately at me. Even at his worst, he found a way to make me feel better. The nurse said our time was up, so I left.
I saw a boy of twelve walking out of the hematology room. He looked a lot like Adrian. He was indeed the student I had for track and music. He sat down and cried quietly, careful that others would not take notice. I made my way to him and asked how he was doing. He tearfully said he was fine although everything else about him indicated otherwise.
"Oh, hi Miss Netherfield. I can never fight again." He covered his face with his hands.
"Why not?"
"Apparently the spider poison killed half my platelets, so I'm more prone to bleeding. It means I can't fight." Dealing with a hematological disorder was difficult in Minecraft. "So it's all those transfusions for nothing." That wasn't true. He would have no platelets if not for the transfusions. I put my arm around him and let him cry on my shoulder. It would be dismissive of me to do otherwise.
"Yes. What about him?" It was Cory.
"Did you know that he was a father at the age of 16?" That shocked me. He looked younger than the other Creative Fun parents, but I had always thought it was just him.
"No. I know it's just him and Alex." This was getting awkward really quickly. "I never knew that, though." I could only imagine what he went through. Having hardly the means to support a child with the added stigma would have been difficult. Why does Jordan get no recognition for inspiring others for raising Alex to be the wonderful girl she is while I had an entire article written about me simply for playing and teaching? Alex came to me in tears once because she could not go on the choir trip. The form required two parent signatures. She cried on my shoulder for a while because her choir teacher would not believe her when she said she had only her father. However, her classmate with only a mother was allowed to go. That must have felt very unfair to Alex.
I have met Jordan before. He is a nice man who carries himself with an air of cool indifference. Some people think him antisocial and a misanthropist. However, that is far from true. He has a big heart that he expresses regularly, just not in the way that others think indicates the existence of a heart. Because Steve was the slayer of the Ender Dragon, Jordan repaired his swords for free. This was an act of gratitude he did because he planned to slay the dragon, but didn't because of Alex.
"Well, the mother didn't want to deal with the stigma, so she never even saw Alex. She just left the little girl to Jordan."
"Where did you hear about this?"
"From the villagers. Apparently, they know Alex and her father very well." Since Alex passed fhrough the village often, it would make sense that they would know at least some part of her. Sweet and demonstrative, it would have never occurred to me that Alex had such a past.
It was oddly silent without Steve next to me. My vulnerabilities were once again in my face. I coughed, puffed on my inhaler, and texted Andrew to get a refill on my inhaler. I curled up on the couch with a blanket and entered grades for my students. Adrian e-mailed me telling me that he was alone in a hematologist's office. He said his mother was with Emilia for her routine appointments.
I gathered my things and visited Steve in the hospital. The path was long and winding, of moderate difficulty for the average person. However, due to my decreased endurance and weak legs, it was more akin to a strenuous hike. I made my way over the path with relative ease at first, but I tired quickly. Carrying the bag along with my medical whatnot did not help things yet all.
When I arrived at the hospital, my legs collapsed underneath me right as a nurse was rolling a cart full of sugar/saline bags to a patient. I apologized and quickly crawls out of the way. I signed in at the counter as another nurse escorted me to Steve's room. She said he could keep down anything with the curtain drawn, but could barely keep any food down if there was no curtain.
Seeing him hooked up to nearly everything I had ever been hooked up to made me feel like something was suffocating me and stabbing my heart with a sword at the same time. I took his hand and he scooted next to me as if to reassure me that everything was okay. He held my hand reassuringly, that familiar grip comforting me. I told him about my students' funny antics and about how Alex was improving. He laughed loud and clear.
I started crying despite the promise I made to myself to stay strong. Steve wiped my tears away with his free hand. He turned over, grabbed a tissue, and encouraged me to sit. I obliged as he gazed compassionately at me. Even at his worst, he found a way to make me feel better. The nurse said our time was up, so I left.
I saw a boy of twelve walking out of the hematology room. He looked a lot like Adrian. He was indeed the student I had for track and music. He sat down and cried quietly, careful that others would not take notice. I made my way to him and asked how he was doing. He tearfully said he was fine although everything else about him indicated otherwise.
"Oh, hi Miss Netherfield. I can never fight again." He covered his face with his hands.
"Why not?"
"Apparently the spider poison killed half my platelets, so I'm more prone to bleeding. It means I can't fight." Dealing with a hematological disorder was difficult in Minecraft. "So it's all those transfusions for nothing." That wasn't true. He would have no platelets if not for the transfusions. I put my arm around him and let him cry on my shoulder. It would be dismissive of me to do otherwise.
Friday, March 18, 2016
It's Okay (Steve)
Oh, great. I looked down at the puddle on the bed and the soaked sheets. The aroma hit my nose, the sight immersed me, and the sensation of wet clothes on my skin were a nagging reminder of the problem I was ashamed of. My eyes welled up with tears, but I held them back. I didn't need to look any more vulnerable than I really was. My pajamas were cold and clammy. Caitlin slept beside me unaware of the incident.
"Wake up." I tried to get her to rise. She stirred, yawned, and looked up at me concernedly.
"What's wrong?" I didn't want to say. "It's okay. You can tell me." Those empathetic eyes went straight to my soul. She caressed my face in her hands as if she already knew.
"I...I. I...w-wet the b-bed." Having nothing else I could say, I still tried not to cry.
"It's okay to cry." Easy for her to say. We stripped the bed and she proceeded to wash the sheets. I got the new bedding and proceeded to cover the bed. It took a few tries to get the fitted sheet over the mattress, but I eventually succeeded. We climbed into bed together and slept as if it would be our last night together. I felt Caitlin's soft breaths and the heat radiating off of her body. She shifted underneath my arm and rested her head on my chest. That alone reminded me that she thought I was worth something.
In the morning, I saw Caitlin looking concerned while speaking on the phone.
"That's horrible. I'm so sorry. No. You don't need to apologize for feeling that way. This must be very heartbreaking for you and your family." She must have been talking to Sylvia. I listened more closely.
"I...I couldn't stop it." I could hear Sylvia's voice breaking over the phone. "She was shaking and...and...she stopped." She started crying again. "I won't be at rehearsal today. It's so awful for a child to die from epilepsy." she said through stifling sobs. "No offense, Caitlin."
"You didn't say anything that I could possibly be offended by. The death of a child is so heartbreaking and bewildering. Take all the time you need. I'll be here if you need me." She turned to me without words and then proceeded to gather her music for rehearsal. I did the same and we headed to rehearsal. I could tell her legs were stiff and painful by the way she walked. Halfway up the trail, she had a really bad asthma attack. I ended up needing to carry her along with her music and mine. It was not a big deal, though, considering that I've lifted iron blocks over longer distances. She thanked me and we continued as always. I wondered how Caitlin had a natural radar for that sort of thing.
At rehearsal, we broke into our respective sections. The flutists were fighting each other to the death to perform Partita in A Minor. Mark and I practiced the second trumpet part for our new music. We were atrociously out of tune. I was sharp and he was flat. We adjusted. We broke down some of the more complex runs. I soon felt like I would be sick, so I ran out of the room. Kent wasn't there to harass me. Good riddance to him! However, the scene I saw when I walked out the door totally changed my mind.
"This must be very difficult for you." Caitlin was comforting Kent! What? I thought she hated him!
"You bet it is."
"Then why are you mean to others?"
"Because I'm dying." Whoa. I did not expect that! He's been looking more and more sick lately, but I had no idea he was dying. That painted his egotistical face in a whole new light.
"Shouldn't you try to make the most of your life instead of treating others badly?"
"That's easy for you to say! You're young, healthy, and have your whole life ahead of you! I have nothing to look forward to!" He rubbed his face and started to cry. Caitlin rubbed his back and let him cry. How could it be that she was so kind to basically anyone? She turned to me and said "Everyone is fighting a hard battle. The least we can do is try to strengthen each other," as if she could see the confusion I tried so well to hide. We sat down to rehearsal where I could just lose myself in the music and channeled all of my rage into a double high C.
A news crew came in assaulting our orchestra with flashing cameras. Caitlin hid her face from the lights. She clammed up and would not speak. She was probably anticipating a seizure. That was salt in the wound. I felt sick myself as we played. The notes swayed sickeningly before me. I ran out and spent the rest of rehearsal with my head in a trash can.
Not only did I purge the contents of my stomach, but also the emotions I had been carrying inside of me like blocks of cobblestone. It felt strangely satisfying and didn't even bother to think something was wrong with me. I would be fine after this. I'd be tired, but fine. I heard footsteps, but I didn't bother to turn my head. I was retching too much to have much energy. I coughed and tasted blood. The red spraying on my elbow confirmed my suspicion.
Before I knew it, I was whisked off to the hospital. I had an IV and the lights were way too bright for me to even attempt to sleep. I saw Caitlin hovering over me looking concerned. I touched her face with my free hand.
"It's okay." I got the words out trying to comfort her. It was the only thing that could make me feel good. Without a word, she put some headphones in my ear and played a song. The familiar tune carried. If you're with me, then everything's alright. That was hard to believe, but I still did.
I broke down crying at the second verse. Why do\My words\Always lose their meaning? My recent aphasia diagnosis gave those lyrics a meaning that they never had before. What I feel\What I say\There's such a rift between them. Those words were painfully true. I had been bottling everything up and out of sight. I had neither the words to express myself freely nor the guts to bring myself to try. Caitlin wiped the tears from my face and held my hand. I felt her warm, creamy skin against mine. Something was very comforting about the way her hands felt.
A doctor came in and told me I had something called cyclic vomiting syndrome. I read the fact sheet. My problem was nothing like that. Reading triggered my vomiting and I usually only did it once, not in prolonged episodes.However, the doctor (totally passive aggressive, mocking tone here) knew best, so I decided not to argue. I was too tired anyway.
"Wake up." I tried to get her to rise. She stirred, yawned, and looked up at me concernedly.
"What's wrong?" I didn't want to say. "It's okay. You can tell me." Those empathetic eyes went straight to my soul. She caressed my face in her hands as if she already knew.
"I...I. I...w-wet the b-bed." Having nothing else I could say, I still tried not to cry.
"It's okay to cry." Easy for her to say. We stripped the bed and she proceeded to wash the sheets. I got the new bedding and proceeded to cover the bed. It took a few tries to get the fitted sheet over the mattress, but I eventually succeeded. We climbed into bed together and slept as if it would be our last night together. I felt Caitlin's soft breaths and the heat radiating off of her body. She shifted underneath my arm and rested her head on my chest. That alone reminded me that she thought I was worth something.
In the morning, I saw Caitlin looking concerned while speaking on the phone.
"That's horrible. I'm so sorry. No. You don't need to apologize for feeling that way. This must be very heartbreaking for you and your family." She must have been talking to Sylvia. I listened more closely.
"I...I couldn't stop it." I could hear Sylvia's voice breaking over the phone. "She was shaking and...and...she stopped." She started crying again. "I won't be at rehearsal today. It's so awful for a child to die from epilepsy." she said through stifling sobs. "No offense, Caitlin."
"You didn't say anything that I could possibly be offended by. The death of a child is so heartbreaking and bewildering. Take all the time you need. I'll be here if you need me." She turned to me without words and then proceeded to gather her music for rehearsal. I did the same and we headed to rehearsal. I could tell her legs were stiff and painful by the way she walked. Halfway up the trail, she had a really bad asthma attack. I ended up needing to carry her along with her music and mine. It was not a big deal, though, considering that I've lifted iron blocks over longer distances. She thanked me and we continued as always. I wondered how Caitlin had a natural radar for that sort of thing.
At rehearsal, we broke into our respective sections. The flutists were fighting each other to the death to perform Partita in A Minor. Mark and I practiced the second trumpet part for our new music. We were atrociously out of tune. I was sharp and he was flat. We adjusted. We broke down some of the more complex runs. I soon felt like I would be sick, so I ran out of the room. Kent wasn't there to harass me. Good riddance to him! However, the scene I saw when I walked out the door totally changed my mind.
"This must be very difficult for you." Caitlin was comforting Kent! What? I thought she hated him!
"You bet it is."
"Then why are you mean to others?"
"Because I'm dying." Whoa. I did not expect that! He's been looking more and more sick lately, but I had no idea he was dying. That painted his egotistical face in a whole new light.
"Shouldn't you try to make the most of your life instead of treating others badly?"
"That's easy for you to say! You're young, healthy, and have your whole life ahead of you! I have nothing to look forward to!" He rubbed his face and started to cry. Caitlin rubbed his back and let him cry. How could it be that she was so kind to basically anyone? She turned to me and said "Everyone is fighting a hard battle. The least we can do is try to strengthen each other," as if she could see the confusion I tried so well to hide. We sat down to rehearsal where I could just lose myself in the music and channeled all of my rage into a double high C.
A news crew came in assaulting our orchestra with flashing cameras. Caitlin hid her face from the lights. She clammed up and would not speak. She was probably anticipating a seizure. That was salt in the wound. I felt sick myself as we played. The notes swayed sickeningly before me. I ran out and spent the rest of rehearsal with my head in a trash can.
Not only did I purge the contents of my stomach, but also the emotions I had been carrying inside of me like blocks of cobblestone. It felt strangely satisfying and didn't even bother to think something was wrong with me. I would be fine after this. I'd be tired, but fine. I heard footsteps, but I didn't bother to turn my head. I was retching too much to have much energy. I coughed and tasted blood. The red spraying on my elbow confirmed my suspicion.
Before I knew it, I was whisked off to the hospital. I had an IV and the lights were way too bright for me to even attempt to sleep. I saw Caitlin hovering over me looking concerned. I touched her face with my free hand.
"It's okay." I got the words out trying to comfort her. It was the only thing that could make me feel good. Without a word, she put some headphones in my ear and played a song. The familiar tune carried. If you're with me, then everything's alright. That was hard to believe, but I still did.
I broke down crying at the second verse. Why do\My words\Always lose their meaning? My recent aphasia diagnosis gave those lyrics a meaning that they never had before. What I feel\What I say\There's such a rift between them. Those words were painfully true. I had been bottling everything up and out of sight. I had neither the words to express myself freely nor the guts to bring myself to try. Caitlin wiped the tears from my face and held my hand. I felt her warm, creamy skin against mine. Something was very comforting about the way her hands felt.
A doctor came in and told me I had something called cyclic vomiting syndrome. I read the fact sheet. My problem was nothing like that. Reading triggered my vomiting and I usually only did it once, not in prolonged episodes.However, the doctor (totally passive aggressive, mocking tone here) knew best, so I decided not to argue. I was too tired anyway.
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
If It Fits (Caitlin)
I stood in a beautiful white dress in a local villager-run bridal shop. Steve suggested that we go to a larger store to have more selection, but I refused. I like to support our local village. They needed to afford adequate shelter from the impending attack and, after all the people of this village have done for me, it's the least I could do. Alex's regular hot chocolate purchases enabled the villagers to build a small shelter, but it wouldn't be enough for everyone. Everyone was pouring their resources into the preservation of their people.
"Steve est timide?" Alisha spoke first. I didn't know she spoke French, so I was kind of taken aback.
"Mais non. Il est fort et vif. Il est sportif aussi."
"Je ne parle français." Emmeline had good pronunciation, but her grammar was prone to faltering.
"On nit de pas: Je ne parle français. Mais plutôt: Je ne parle français pas."
"Thank you, I guess." Emmeline blushed. The consultant, Arlene, met our party. I pointed myself out as the bride to be. She looked surprised. Maybe she thought Alisha would be the bride? No. Alisha is too wily and independent. Marcinia suggested that I wear a mermaid dress, but I can't walk very well as it is. I don't need to add a constricting dress to the mix. I tried another dress on. This one was too big. It kept falling off, which was annoying. I ended up picking something else out, which was sublimely beautiful. The right combination of pearls, lace, and diamonds on the bodice sat atop a tulle skirt which just fell in quite the right way. It was my dress. It was ethereal and dreamlike with an elegant simplicity. I could tell just from that quick glance. Then, my body alerted me that I needed to find a toilet. Though I had a diaper on, I wasn't in the mood to be wet for the next four hours.
I searched frantically and finally found a restroom. Unfortunately, the large stall was full of boxes and there was no way I could navigate it. Honestly, who keeps boxes in a bathroom? I got back to my sisters and felt that familiar trickling. I flushed with shame just as Alisha showed me a box.
"I've been meaning to give this to you." I opened the box. My cranes! I cried. Years of emotions poured out in the form of tears. For years, Alisha burned the cranes. What would have motivated her to save them? "I'm sorry. For all of those years, I've treated you horribly only knowing an evil master. Now that you've rescued us, this is the least we could do." I didn't rescue them. Steve did. He was up there on the obsidian towers, not me.
"Oh, really? Thanks." I twirled the crane in my hand. With my consultant, I tried on the dress. It fit in a way that made me see something totally unlike myself. Who was the girl in the mirror? She was just as surprised to see myself as I was. She was a shadow of myself, someone I always wanted to be from the day I could think. She could charm a dragon slayer. It took a while to sink in that I was staring at myself. But my reflection was nothing like me. I envied her poise and charm the way others seek diamonds.
When I walked through, I saw Alisha smile for the first time. Marcinia commented about how I was "so pretty". Emmeline couldn't take her eyes off of me. I stared at myself. Arlene smiled as if she knew my thoughts like an old friend.
"That dress really suits you." I felt my cane under my fingers. I looked out of place against the white dress. Alisha and Emmeline perused the racks for veils. It did. For the first time, I truly felt beautiful. Steve had always told me that, but I never really felt it. An enthusiastic "Yes" burst past my lips. Emmeline and Alisha came back a veil of their choice. I tried Emmeline's selection first. Just a simple tulle with some nice lace, it complimented the dress. It reflected me. However, I wanted to incorporate an element of Steve's brazen sword-clashing, dragon-slaying personality. This veil did not do that at all. Alisha picked something more glamorous that had his tastes written all over it. It did not, however, match the dress.
"Hey, did you see the tiara piece thing that came with the first one?" Marcinia chimed in. Emmeline found it and added it to her piece. She placed it in my hair like the good little sister she always wanted to be.
"It's perfect!" My ring glimmered under the light.
"Let's send a picture to...What's your student's name? Lexi? Annie?"
"Alex. She'll love it!" Alex would love it. The tiara made me the queen Alex took me to be.
Then came the time to try on shoes. I am not going anywhere near heels because I would trip and fall on my face in them. Flats won't fit over my AFOs. Anything that meets my footwear needs will ruin the look. I cried again and totally lost my composure. Alisha tried to intimidate me into calming down. Emmeline tried to argue with Alisha. It did not work. I hated their conflict. It escalated and showed no signs of stopping. Eventually, Marcinia stepped in.
"Shut up. Both of you. You guys are being childish." She turned to me. "It's okay, Caitlin. I'm sure we'll find something." I tried my hardest not to cry as she said it. She was the one who ruined my prom dress so I couldn't go. Now, she's helping me look perfect for my wedding. Their change of heart interested me.
We were told that there were shoes with extra depth available. All of them fit, but none of them went with my dress. They resembled boxes more than shoes. Why don't I just forgo the AFOs and destroy my legs to fulfill the vision of the wedding I've always wanted? No. I needed to follow the routine. But I wouldn't look like a bride. How is something so trivial to me making me emotional?
My sisters and I set out to another store. One of the shopkeepers confused extra depth with extra width, so I tripped and fell on my face. Landon happened to be there. He laughed at me and harassed me. I tried to defend myself, but tears fell down my face. Spaz. Retard. Useless. Freak. His words were fired like arrows into my heart one after another. I felt helpless. I wished Steve could punch him in the face for me, but he was fishing (and presumably fighting creepers) with Jordan. Then, my sisters came to my aid starting with Alisha.
"No. You are an ableist idiot. Caitlin is an excellent musician and teacher as well as just an all around great person. Her students come out of her class different than they were before. I wish I could say the same of your students."
"Well, she can't walk very well. And have you seen her drop to the ground and flop like a fish out of water?" Landon tried to justify himself.
"Seizures are not an acceptable punchline!" Emmeline threw herself into the fray. "You're just jealous because she's getting married to the slayer of the Ender Dragon. But that's okay because you are not worth her time. You're lucky she didn't plant an arrow in your head yet."
"What of it? That guy can't talk. Besides, what student would want a teacher like her?" Emphasize "her" with extra contempt and that's what he said to me.
"Me. I'm her little sister. Now, you had better run or else Alisha will kill you." He ran as fast as he could. Alisha put her arm over me and showed me a pair of beautiful shoes. They were elegant, lacy Mary Janes with pearl details that perfectly complimented my dress.
"I'm genuinely sorry for the way I treated you when we were kids." Alisha's penitence showed in her eyes. "I just found these knowing they'd be perfect for you." They were. We all left the shop happy and decided to get lunch. Glancing down apprehensively, I saw a myriad of shrimp and squid-related items. No thank you. I am not in the mood to die, especially not when anticipating the greatest day of my life. "It's okay, Caitlin. I called ahead."
We enjoyed the rest of the day as if we had been normal sisters our entire lives. Aside from a few drop seizures, the day went by disaster free.
"Steve est timide?" Alisha spoke first. I didn't know she spoke French, so I was kind of taken aback.
"Mais non. Il est fort et vif. Il est sportif aussi."
"Je ne parle français." Emmeline had good pronunciation, but her grammar was prone to faltering.
"On nit de pas: Je ne parle français. Mais plutôt: Je ne parle français pas."
"Thank you, I guess." Emmeline blushed. The consultant, Arlene, met our party. I pointed myself out as the bride to be. She looked surprised. Maybe she thought Alisha would be the bride? No. Alisha is too wily and independent. Marcinia suggested that I wear a mermaid dress, but I can't walk very well as it is. I don't need to add a constricting dress to the mix. I tried another dress on. This one was too big. It kept falling off, which was annoying. I ended up picking something else out, which was sublimely beautiful. The right combination of pearls, lace, and diamonds on the bodice sat atop a tulle skirt which just fell in quite the right way. It was my dress. It was ethereal and dreamlike with an elegant simplicity. I could tell just from that quick glance. Then, my body alerted me that I needed to find a toilet. Though I had a diaper on, I wasn't in the mood to be wet for the next four hours.
I searched frantically and finally found a restroom. Unfortunately, the large stall was full of boxes and there was no way I could navigate it. Honestly, who keeps boxes in a bathroom? I got back to my sisters and felt that familiar trickling. I flushed with shame just as Alisha showed me a box.
"I've been meaning to give this to you." I opened the box. My cranes! I cried. Years of emotions poured out in the form of tears. For years, Alisha burned the cranes. What would have motivated her to save them? "I'm sorry. For all of those years, I've treated you horribly only knowing an evil master. Now that you've rescued us, this is the least we could do." I didn't rescue them. Steve did. He was up there on the obsidian towers, not me.
"Oh, really? Thanks." I twirled the crane in my hand. With my consultant, I tried on the dress. It fit in a way that made me see something totally unlike myself. Who was the girl in the mirror? She was just as surprised to see myself as I was. She was a shadow of myself, someone I always wanted to be from the day I could think. She could charm a dragon slayer. It took a while to sink in that I was staring at myself. But my reflection was nothing like me. I envied her poise and charm the way others seek diamonds.
When I walked through, I saw Alisha smile for the first time. Marcinia commented about how I was "so pretty". Emmeline couldn't take her eyes off of me. I stared at myself. Arlene smiled as if she knew my thoughts like an old friend.
"That dress really suits you." I felt my cane under my fingers. I looked out of place against the white dress. Alisha and Emmeline perused the racks for veils. It did. For the first time, I truly felt beautiful. Steve had always told me that, but I never really felt it. An enthusiastic "Yes" burst past my lips. Emmeline and Alisha came back a veil of their choice. I tried Emmeline's selection first. Just a simple tulle with some nice lace, it complimented the dress. It reflected me. However, I wanted to incorporate an element of Steve's brazen sword-clashing, dragon-slaying personality. This veil did not do that at all. Alisha picked something more glamorous that had his tastes written all over it. It did not, however, match the dress.
"Hey, did you see the tiara piece thing that came with the first one?" Marcinia chimed in. Emmeline found it and added it to her piece. She placed it in my hair like the good little sister she always wanted to be.
"It's perfect!" My ring glimmered under the light.
"Let's send a picture to...What's your student's name? Lexi? Annie?"
"Alex. She'll love it!" Alex would love it. The tiara made me the queen Alex took me to be.
Then came the time to try on shoes. I am not going anywhere near heels because I would trip and fall on my face in them. Flats won't fit over my AFOs. Anything that meets my footwear needs will ruin the look. I cried again and totally lost my composure. Alisha tried to intimidate me into calming down. Emmeline tried to argue with Alisha. It did not work. I hated their conflict. It escalated and showed no signs of stopping. Eventually, Marcinia stepped in.
"Shut up. Both of you. You guys are being childish." She turned to me. "It's okay, Caitlin. I'm sure we'll find something." I tried my hardest not to cry as she said it. She was the one who ruined my prom dress so I couldn't go. Now, she's helping me look perfect for my wedding. Their change of heart interested me.
We were told that there were shoes with extra depth available. All of them fit, but none of them went with my dress. They resembled boxes more than shoes. Why don't I just forgo the AFOs and destroy my legs to fulfill the vision of the wedding I've always wanted? No. I needed to follow the routine. But I wouldn't look like a bride. How is something so trivial to me making me emotional?
My sisters and I set out to another store. One of the shopkeepers confused extra depth with extra width, so I tripped and fell on my face. Landon happened to be there. He laughed at me and harassed me. I tried to defend myself, but tears fell down my face. Spaz. Retard. Useless. Freak. His words were fired like arrows into my heart one after another. I felt helpless. I wished Steve could punch him in the face for me, but he was fishing (and presumably fighting creepers) with Jordan. Then, my sisters came to my aid starting with Alisha.
"No. You are an ableist idiot. Caitlin is an excellent musician and teacher as well as just an all around great person. Her students come out of her class different than they were before. I wish I could say the same of your students."
"Well, she can't walk very well. And have you seen her drop to the ground and flop like a fish out of water?" Landon tried to justify himself.
"Seizures are not an acceptable punchline!" Emmeline threw herself into the fray. "You're just jealous because she's getting married to the slayer of the Ender Dragon. But that's okay because you are not worth her time. You're lucky she didn't plant an arrow in your head yet."
"What of it? That guy can't talk. Besides, what student would want a teacher like her?" Emphasize "her" with extra contempt and that's what he said to me.
"Me. I'm her little sister. Now, you had better run or else Alisha will kill you." He ran as fast as he could. Alisha put her arm over me and showed me a pair of beautiful shoes. They were elegant, lacy Mary Janes with pearl details that perfectly complimented my dress.
"I'm genuinely sorry for the way I treated you when we were kids." Alisha's penitence showed in her eyes. "I just found these knowing they'd be perfect for you." They were. We all left the shop happy and decided to get lunch. Glancing down apprehensively, I saw a myriad of shrimp and squid-related items. No thank you. I am not in the mood to die, especially not when anticipating the greatest day of my life. "It's okay, Caitlin. I called ahead."
We enjoyed the rest of the day as if we had been normal sisters our entire lives. Aside from a few drop seizures, the day went by disaster free.
Wednesday, March 9, 2016
Lost Words (Steve)
I was sitting the waiting room waiting for Dr. Chen to come through the door. I instinctively leaned my head on Caitlin's shoulder. However, she wasn't there. She was still in the hospital while her students were swarming her with get well cards. I ended up bumping my head on a chair's armrest, which hurt. It was just me all alone in a foreign environment. An eerie silence laced the place.
I got up and sat down in the chair in the exam room. Dr. Chen had her hair in a French braid and wore a friendly smile that I have only seen once before in a lifetime. She reminded me of Kyle from the Mindcrack band.
"Ah, you're the slayer of the Ender Dragon! Your friend, Andrew recommended that I see you." She had me put on a hospital gown, which was honestly very awkward to wear. It was cold and drafty, but not in the good way a mineshaft feels like. "Let's scan that brain of yours and find what's inside." To be honest, I expected her to be cold and robotic. Instead, she was warm and enthusiastic. Her presence was comforting. A nurse took me too the imaging room.
"Do you have anything metal in your body like a pacemaker?"
"No." The answer took about a second to form. I didn't even know what a pacemaker was. I felt the contrast dye run through my vein. The rush was like cold water. I laid down and heard the clatter of the equipment. It was foreign and chaotic unlike the driving beat of a percussion section. I laid there cold and helpless. I could see why Caitlin did not like getting MRIs. She flinched at the sound of the school bell or a bass drum striking at the wrong time. This was like that, only happening at random intervals. I turned on my side at the technician's word and the chaos continued.
After that disaster was over, I got to my feet and put my clothes back on. Hospital gowns suck. I don't know how anyone puts up with them. The one I received had this very ugly pink floral print (read: a smattering of pink splotches that vaguely resemble flowers). Really? That was part of the aesthetically pleasing hospital gowns initiative? Blue stripes would have been infinitely better.
"All right. Let's get thee to an SLP. You'll get your MRI results in about a week." What is an SLP? All these acronyms float in my head like alphabet soup. I followed Dr. Chen through the long corridors to greet whoever the SLP was. "This is Dr. Yun." Dr. Yun led me into his room. I repeated some words back at him at his orders.
"Do you work?" It was a simple question. The response formed quickly: Yes, I do. I'm the Mindcrack Middle and High School band director. I also play for the Minecraft Symphony Orchestra and the Impulsive Brass Band.
"Yes. I teach music. Play, too." That is what came out of my mouth, haltingly and effortfully. Dr. Yun looked at me critically. He wrote something down and handed me a Scantron sheet. I felt nauseous after taking the test. It continued. I threw up twice. It was awful.
"All right, then. How is your life? I hear you're about to get married."
"Yes. To...Caitlin Netherfield." Ah, Caitlin! I wish you were here.
"Tell me about her." Oh, where do I begin? Her musical talents? The way she twirls her hair? Her empathetic gaze? The kindness and selflessness with which she goes about life? The sanguine flush of her cheeks after combat?
"She is very smart. Also pretty."
"Is she a musician too?"
"Yes."
"What does she play?"
"Clarinet. And French horn. She sings too."
"She seems to be very talented." Dr. Yun shuffled some papers. "It appears that your IQ is 132, which is very high. Your strong area is visual reasoning and your weak area is verbal. I noticed that you write with the pencil on your ring finger, but that's not what we're here for today. You seem healthy and strong as an ox. Aside from the vomiting when reading, nothing seems to be wrong with you medically." Well, what was I here for? I totally forgot. He stared at me unsettlingly. How could Dr. Chen recommend that I see such a creep? Dr. Yun faced his computer, which gave me relief from his eyes. I looked around at the posters. One of them showed a diagram of how the mouth works. The other had a list of clinical terms no human being could pronounce.
"All right. I have reached a conclusion." He handed me a sheet of paper with some random graphs and charts. Then, in the corner, I saw "Aphasia: Broca's" written in large letters. "You have aphasia of the expressive variety. It is a classic case of Broca's aphasia, but quite a mild form. You have trouble finding the right words, but you know you want to say. You seem, however, to be getting on well with the few words you have." Tell me about it. "You still have good comprehension, but your expression is weak. You have good pitch and repetition, tough. I'll send your IQ test in for further testing for other things. Please see me if you have other concerns. A disability of this nature can be very hard to live with." Wait, what? That really threw me for a loop. I walked out of the office with a new weight on my shoulders. I have a disability. Wait, could that be true? I felt like I walked into battle and then had my armor torn off of my body.
As I was making my way back out, a man stopped me. I had no idea who he was.
"Dr. Yun is a creep, isn't he?" He was so calm and collected. I noticed that his eyes looked hazy. They didn't glow like Andreas's eyes, though.
"Yes."
"It's a good thing I recommended against Anna seeing him. I'm Valan, by the way. I saw a high school kid with glowing eyes walk out, for a sports physical, I assume."
"I'm Steve. You speak of Andreas." Whoa. I did NOT intend to sound like an old book!
"Is he one of your students?"
"Yes."
"What subject?"
"Band. He plays flute."
"The flute is a beautiful instrument. It's also good for use as a spear. Do you come here often?" My face flushed. I fumbled around for the right words. They wouldn't come. They were lost. Lost words. Aphasia seemed to be just that: lost words. I lost my words in my battle with the Ender Dragon and I can't get them back.
"No. First time here." I didn't really want to talk about it.
"You seem like you're having a hard time. Is there any way I can help you?" How did he know? His gaze was similar to Caitlin's, only colder and with more impression of strength.
"I'm fine." I walked out before Valan could bother me any further. A creeper crossed my line of vision, but I let it pass. I didn't feel like fighting. When I got home, I flopped down on my bed and cried. I raised my sword above my chest when a text interrupted me. It was Andrew.
Andrew: So, how was your SLP appt.?
Me: :,(
Andrew: I understand. I'll bring soup.
He came with a delicious-smelling soup. However, it tasted like paste to me. Everything was tasteless. I, however, ate anyway. I had nothing else to do.
"You know, I think Caitlin would look good in this." He showed me a picture he circled in a wedding dress catalog.
"It needs more stuff." I found another picture and circled it.
"Are you kidding me? She'll drown in that thing!" Andrew laughed. "By the way, there's someone I'd like you to meet." It was good to hear his voice again. It's been so long. I ate more soup. Finally, I could taste the salty broth, the sweet carrots, the savory chicken. The slippery noodles slid down my throat easily. It was a comforting taste, the panacea for most ills. Someone else had entered the room.
"Oh, hi, Steven. It's been so long!" Steven. It's been a while since I heard that name. "What, you don't recognize your own brother?" I registered the friendly face.
"Cory!" A wave of guilt washed over me. All those lonely days in the hospital were due to my insistence to spleef. He picked up on my emotions as if they were as clear as the ring of a bell.
"You know, this is a lot to take in." I found myself leaning on his shoulder like we were young again. "You're safe with me." Ah, the memories! I remembered waking up in the middle of the night as a child several times. He always said the same thing: "You're safe with me." It was good to hear that again. "And I hear that you have slain the Ender Dragon!"
"True." His lifelong dream was to slay the Ender Dragon. Now, I butted in and did it. Great. I stole his dreams along with his life!
"That's great! How does it feel? And how is Caitlin doing?"
"Not good." I wanted to say more, but aphasia was getting in the way. "She is sick." Well, not really. Not even close.
"I'm so sorry to hear that!" My eyes watered once again. I hid my tears behind my face. Cory dipped the ladle into the soup and served me some more. "I hope she gets better soon. Do you need anything?" I followed him to the couch.
"No." Truth was, I needed a lot of things. I had so much say and was unable to say it. Cory held me and ran his hands through my hair. I relaxed and fell asleep.
I woke up to a large wet spot on my pants and on the couch. I got up and, after drop kicking an empty trumpet case across the room, cleaned up the couch. Cory gave me one last hug and departed with the leftover chicken soup. Meanwhile, I took a shower and got ready for bed. I closed my eyes and instinctively reached for Caitlin. She wasn't there. I groaned and turned over, hoping to sleep. I guess it's another tumultuous night for me.
I got up and sat down in the chair in the exam room. Dr. Chen had her hair in a French braid and wore a friendly smile that I have only seen once before in a lifetime. She reminded me of Kyle from the Mindcrack band.
"Ah, you're the slayer of the Ender Dragon! Your friend, Andrew recommended that I see you." She had me put on a hospital gown, which was honestly very awkward to wear. It was cold and drafty, but not in the good way a mineshaft feels like. "Let's scan that brain of yours and find what's inside." To be honest, I expected her to be cold and robotic. Instead, she was warm and enthusiastic. Her presence was comforting. A nurse took me too the imaging room.
"Do you have anything metal in your body like a pacemaker?"
"No." The answer took about a second to form. I didn't even know what a pacemaker was. I felt the contrast dye run through my vein. The rush was like cold water. I laid down and heard the clatter of the equipment. It was foreign and chaotic unlike the driving beat of a percussion section. I laid there cold and helpless. I could see why Caitlin did not like getting MRIs. She flinched at the sound of the school bell or a bass drum striking at the wrong time. This was like that, only happening at random intervals. I turned on my side at the technician's word and the chaos continued.
After that disaster was over, I got to my feet and put my clothes back on. Hospital gowns suck. I don't know how anyone puts up with them. The one I received had this very ugly pink floral print (read: a smattering of pink splotches that vaguely resemble flowers). Really? That was part of the aesthetically pleasing hospital gowns initiative? Blue stripes would have been infinitely better.
"All right. Let's get thee to an SLP. You'll get your MRI results in about a week." What is an SLP? All these acronyms float in my head like alphabet soup. I followed Dr. Chen through the long corridors to greet whoever the SLP was. "This is Dr. Yun." Dr. Yun led me into his room. I repeated some words back at him at his orders.
"Do you work?" It was a simple question. The response formed quickly: Yes, I do. I'm the Mindcrack Middle and High School band director. I also play for the Minecraft Symphony Orchestra and the Impulsive Brass Band.
"Yes. I teach music. Play, too." That is what came out of my mouth, haltingly and effortfully. Dr. Yun looked at me critically. He wrote something down and handed me a Scantron sheet. I felt nauseous after taking the test. It continued. I threw up twice. It was awful.
"All right, then. How is your life? I hear you're about to get married."
"Yes. To...Caitlin Netherfield." Ah, Caitlin! I wish you were here.
"Tell me about her." Oh, where do I begin? Her musical talents? The way she twirls her hair? Her empathetic gaze? The kindness and selflessness with which she goes about life? The sanguine flush of her cheeks after combat?
"She is very smart. Also pretty."
"Is she a musician too?"
"Yes."
"What does she play?"
"Clarinet. And French horn. She sings too."
"She seems to be very talented." Dr. Yun shuffled some papers. "It appears that your IQ is 132, which is very high. Your strong area is visual reasoning and your weak area is verbal. I noticed that you write with the pencil on your ring finger, but that's not what we're here for today. You seem healthy and strong as an ox. Aside from the vomiting when reading, nothing seems to be wrong with you medically." Well, what was I here for? I totally forgot. He stared at me unsettlingly. How could Dr. Chen recommend that I see such a creep? Dr. Yun faced his computer, which gave me relief from his eyes. I looked around at the posters. One of them showed a diagram of how the mouth works. The other had a list of clinical terms no human being could pronounce.
"All right. I have reached a conclusion." He handed me a sheet of paper with some random graphs and charts. Then, in the corner, I saw "Aphasia: Broca's" written in large letters. "You have aphasia of the expressive variety. It is a classic case of Broca's aphasia, but quite a mild form. You have trouble finding the right words, but you know you want to say. You seem, however, to be getting on well with the few words you have." Tell me about it. "You still have good comprehension, but your expression is weak. You have good pitch and repetition, tough. I'll send your IQ test in for further testing for other things. Please see me if you have other concerns. A disability of this nature can be very hard to live with." Wait, what? That really threw me for a loop. I walked out of the office with a new weight on my shoulders. I have a disability. Wait, could that be true? I felt like I walked into battle and then had my armor torn off of my body.
As I was making my way back out, a man stopped me. I had no idea who he was.
"Dr. Yun is a creep, isn't he?" He was so calm and collected. I noticed that his eyes looked hazy. They didn't glow like Andreas's eyes, though.
"Yes."
"It's a good thing I recommended against Anna seeing him. I'm Valan, by the way. I saw a high school kid with glowing eyes walk out, for a sports physical, I assume."
"I'm Steve. You speak of Andreas." Whoa. I did NOT intend to sound like an old book!
"Is he one of your students?"
"Yes."
"What subject?"
"Band. He plays flute."
"The flute is a beautiful instrument. It's also good for use as a spear. Do you come here often?" My face flushed. I fumbled around for the right words. They wouldn't come. They were lost. Lost words. Aphasia seemed to be just that: lost words. I lost my words in my battle with the Ender Dragon and I can't get them back.
"No. First time here." I didn't really want to talk about it.
"You seem like you're having a hard time. Is there any way I can help you?" How did he know? His gaze was similar to Caitlin's, only colder and with more impression of strength.
"I'm fine." I walked out before Valan could bother me any further. A creeper crossed my line of vision, but I let it pass. I didn't feel like fighting. When I got home, I flopped down on my bed and cried. I raised my sword above my chest when a text interrupted me. It was Andrew.
Andrew: So, how was your SLP appt.?
Me: :,(
Andrew: I understand. I'll bring soup.
He came with a delicious-smelling soup. However, it tasted like paste to me. Everything was tasteless. I, however, ate anyway. I had nothing else to do.
"You know, I think Caitlin would look good in this." He showed me a picture he circled in a wedding dress catalog.
"It needs more stuff." I found another picture and circled it.
"Are you kidding me? She'll drown in that thing!" Andrew laughed. "By the way, there's someone I'd like you to meet." It was good to hear his voice again. It's been so long. I ate more soup. Finally, I could taste the salty broth, the sweet carrots, the savory chicken. The slippery noodles slid down my throat easily. It was a comforting taste, the panacea for most ills. Someone else had entered the room.
"Oh, hi, Steven. It's been so long!" Steven. It's been a while since I heard that name. "What, you don't recognize your own brother?" I registered the friendly face.
"Cory!" A wave of guilt washed over me. All those lonely days in the hospital were due to my insistence to spleef. He picked up on my emotions as if they were as clear as the ring of a bell.
"You know, this is a lot to take in." I found myself leaning on his shoulder like we were young again. "You're safe with me." Ah, the memories! I remembered waking up in the middle of the night as a child several times. He always said the same thing: "You're safe with me." It was good to hear that again. "And I hear that you have slain the Ender Dragon!"
"True." His lifelong dream was to slay the Ender Dragon. Now, I butted in and did it. Great. I stole his dreams along with his life!
"That's great! How does it feel? And how is Caitlin doing?"
"Not good." I wanted to say more, but aphasia was getting in the way. "She is sick." Well, not really. Not even close.
"I'm so sorry to hear that!" My eyes watered once again. I hid my tears behind my face. Cory dipped the ladle into the soup and served me some more. "I hope she gets better soon. Do you need anything?" I followed him to the couch.
"No." Truth was, I needed a lot of things. I had so much say and was unable to say it. Cory held me and ran his hands through my hair. I relaxed and fell asleep.
I woke up to a large wet spot on my pants and on the couch. I got up and, after drop kicking an empty trumpet case across the room, cleaned up the couch. Cory gave me one last hug and departed with the leftover chicken soup. Meanwhile, I took a shower and got ready for bed. I closed my eyes and instinctively reached for Caitlin. She wasn't there. I groaned and turned over, hoping to sleep. I guess it's another tumultuous night for me.
Friday, March 4, 2016
I Will Be Free (Caitlin)
As usual, Alex arrived for her vocal lessons. She was a little sharp on her C4 and somewhat flat on her A3, but every other note she sang in the scale was in tune. I prepared her for singing for the Mindcrack sixth grade choir, something I knew would develop her voice. Obviously, Cory's piano lessons had been working for Alex.
"I think this will prepare you for singing with the sixth grade choir" I handed her the music for 2.75. It suited Alex's personality and vocal range. She has a powerful chest voice. Her head voice is still somewhat breathy, but, as with any musical flaw, it can be fixed with practice. Alex looked at me like I had suggested that she should drink poison after glancing at the music. She sight-read reluctantly and shook her head when the time came where she had to sing "Someday I know that I will be free."
"I can't hit the 'free' note," Alex complained. "I'm never going to be able to sing this."
"You will. Let's start with the note a third below it." Alex sang the note. "Now, slide up to it." She sang the next note with ease, but her voice cracked. After groaning, she agreed to try it again. She hit the note momentarily, but soon dropped flat. "That's it! Now, keep it there!" We dedicated some time to having Alex hit that note. "Now, let's put it into context." She sang the line successfully three times in a row, which was not bad.
"Did I tell you that I'm doing band next year?"
"No. What instrument are you going to play?"
"Probably flute. Or trumpet." Alex had the voice of a trumpet. Learning to play a delicate instrument like the flute would do her music good. We ran through the song again, but I was on the floor the next moment.
I felt like I had stood in a nether portal for too long. People rushed around me. Their once familiar faces I could not recall. I had no idea what time it was or where I was. I couldn't understand anything anyone was saying. The lights were very bright, the machines beeped loudly, and I felt like someone was splitting my skull open with an axe. I couldn't stay awake, but I couldn't sleep either. A man with blue eyes was sitting next to me talking to someone, probably a doctor. Oh, good. My memory bank didn't get too scrambled! A nurse put some headphones on my ears. They helped with the noise, but the lights were unbearable. So was the headache.
"Her head hurts," the same blue-eyed man said. "Very badly."
"Okay." The doctor took more notes.
I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. The man, who I now recognized as Steve, took my hand. He looked at me with a kind concern that make me cry.
"No need to cry." Steve wiped my eyes and put a mask over my eyes since he knew the lights bothered me. I would have been screaming and crying incoherently at this point, but I was too tired to do so. I fell asleep easily, dreamlessly. Seamlessly. Into soothing respite.
After I woke up, I looked around at the others in what I now identified as the neurology unit. A young girl of about what I thought to be eight seized next to me. I felt her pain. The movements stopped and her mother gave her a plush doll to sleep with. The doll looked like the one Vivienne gave to me on my fifth birthday. I hoped the girl would be able to leave soon. I'd take her place if I could.
"I hope she will be okay." I managed to squeeze the words past my lips. Steve looked confused, frustrated even, as I said this.
"I don't understand. Not at all."
"She's going through the same thing. It's only natural that I empathize with her." Why didn't Steve get it? I seemed to be wired to notice the pain of others, but be unable to heal them. I could only hope that the girl next to me would be okay. He ran out of the room and vomited in a trashcan.I could see the pain he was trying to hide like a creeper in the vines.
I could only replay 2.75 in my head wondering if my worth was measured by my 9 to 5. If so, did others believe that what I wear dictates my place? Though I'm fed up, I'll keep my head up. I'll be fine as long as I'm a live because someday I know that I will be free.
"I think this will prepare you for singing with the sixth grade choir" I handed her the music for 2.75. It suited Alex's personality and vocal range. She has a powerful chest voice. Her head voice is still somewhat breathy, but, as with any musical flaw, it can be fixed with practice. Alex looked at me like I had suggested that she should drink poison after glancing at the music. She sight-read reluctantly and shook her head when the time came where she had to sing "Someday I know that I will be free."
"I can't hit the 'free' note," Alex complained. "I'm never going to be able to sing this."
"You will. Let's start with the note a third below it." Alex sang the note. "Now, slide up to it." She sang the next note with ease, but her voice cracked. After groaning, she agreed to try it again. She hit the note momentarily, but soon dropped flat. "That's it! Now, keep it there!" We dedicated some time to having Alex hit that note. "Now, let's put it into context." She sang the line successfully three times in a row, which was not bad.
"Did I tell you that I'm doing band next year?"
"No. What instrument are you going to play?"
"Probably flute. Or trumpet." Alex had the voice of a trumpet. Learning to play a delicate instrument like the flute would do her music good. We ran through the song again, but I was on the floor the next moment.
I felt like I had stood in a nether portal for too long. People rushed around me. Their once familiar faces I could not recall. I had no idea what time it was or where I was. I couldn't understand anything anyone was saying. The lights were very bright, the machines beeped loudly, and I felt like someone was splitting my skull open with an axe. I couldn't stay awake, but I couldn't sleep either. A man with blue eyes was sitting next to me talking to someone, probably a doctor. Oh, good. My memory bank didn't get too scrambled! A nurse put some headphones on my ears. They helped with the noise, but the lights were unbearable. So was the headache.
"Her head hurts," the same blue-eyed man said. "Very badly."
"Okay." The doctor took more notes.
I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. The man, who I now recognized as Steve, took my hand. He looked at me with a kind concern that make me cry.
"No need to cry." Steve wiped my eyes and put a mask over my eyes since he knew the lights bothered me. I would have been screaming and crying incoherently at this point, but I was too tired to do so. I fell asleep easily, dreamlessly. Seamlessly. Into soothing respite.
After I woke up, I looked around at the others in what I now identified as the neurology unit. A young girl of about what I thought to be eight seized next to me. I felt her pain. The movements stopped and her mother gave her a plush doll to sleep with. The doll looked like the one Vivienne gave to me on my fifth birthday. I hoped the girl would be able to leave soon. I'd take her place if I could.
"I hope she will be okay." I managed to squeeze the words past my lips. Steve looked confused, frustrated even, as I said this.
"I don't understand. Not at all."
"She's going through the same thing. It's only natural that I empathize with her." Why didn't Steve get it? I seemed to be wired to notice the pain of others, but be unable to heal them. I could only hope that the girl next to me would be okay. He ran out of the room and vomited in a trashcan.I could see the pain he was trying to hide like a creeper in the vines.
I could only replay 2.75 in my head wondering if my worth was measured by my 9 to 5. If so, did others believe that what I wear dictates my place? Though I'm fed up, I'll keep my head up. I'll be fine as long as I'm a live because someday I know that I will be free.
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