A Cold Shallow Breath

[bahamit_147]

It was an early morning, it seemed like the sun was brighter today than many other days. It was a pristine day the sky was clear, the birds were chirping, and there was a gentle breeze carrying with it, the scent of flowers. There was a long red brick wall, running down the sidewalk in both directions nearly as far as the eye can see, and standing right in the middle an extravagant wrought iron gate. The gate seemed like it should be to keep people away from a billionaires land and home. Something that couldn’t be further from the truth, this wasn’t someone home, rather, a school. Not just any school, a school for the disabled, as I think about that I get a shiver that runs down my entire spine, the memory, though faded from months of rehabilitation, still fresh too vivid for my liking.

I had grown up without a father, raised by my mother as a single parent, leaving me to my own devices for the most part. However my youth was far from free of drama and despair, at only eight years old I was rushed to the emergency room for a severe allergic reaction. I was in a car accident at fifteen requiring a few surgeries on my face and bridge of my nose to repair the damage. I was lucky then, an eighth of an inch was all that separated me from death by a bullet like chunk of glass. I also nearly lost my eyes that day, leaving myself needing glasses for the rest of my life, practically unscathed. Other than that I managed to keep myself out of the hospital and other medical institutes; that was with the exception of my bi-yearly medical visits, something due to moderate-mild COPD and asthma. Keeping that under control with just a hand full of medications, I managed to keep my old life at my old school, well for the most part. If that were completely true then I wouldn’t be standing before a school for the disabled.

My school understood my health concerns and gave me some leniency when it came to gym class, most of the time, I would either hang out in the band room when there wasn’t a class in there. When there was a class in there I chose the art room, trying to avoid the gym, I knew my competitive nature would come out and I would push myself either too or past my limits. This became all too real when I got into a bit of a competition with a few classmates in an American game, football. Probably not my best decision of my life, most likely my worst, not only is the game violent, but the immense amounts of running were already burning my lungs. I pushed through, only to have one missed tag, considering we weren’t allowed to play tackle football in school, turn into a shoulder to the chest. This blow struck the right side of my chest enough to completely wind me, spurring on a severe asthma attack; however it was different than any one before it. I had fallen to my knees, one hand on the ground the other against my chest, I had tried to inhale, however no air flowed past my lips. My eyes wide with horror as I pushed myself back, sitting on feet finally getting a gasp of air, though it felt like ice on the back of my throat, causing me to cough violently. This is where things had gotten blurry, pulling my hand from my mouth, there was one thing I had never experienced, there was blood dripping from my palm, my shaking palm, and that was the last thing I remembered for a while.

It was the next that I woke up, though when I tried to speak, I came to the quick realization that there was a solid plastic pipe in my mouth. I blinked a few times trying to allow my eyes to focus so I could see what was going on; however it was to no avail as I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I could hear the pulsing of air surging, through a machine, feeling the air inflate and deflate my lungs. Even though a machine was breathing for me I could smell isopropyl alcohol and bleach in the room. Pulling my hand up I could feel the tug of the IV’s, something close enough that I could see it clearly, even without my glasses, the room was coming into focus to a small extent. I could make out the outline of a clock on the wall, squinting I tried to read the time, maybe know if a nurse or anyone would be checking up on me soon. I had only been up for a few minutes however I could already feel my eyes becoming heavy the creak of the door pulling my eyes from the clock to see a figure in white walking in as I once again joined the realm of the unconscious.

I’m not sure how much time had passed however the next time I woke up, I noticed there was no longer a ventilator in my throat. My throat left dry from the solid plastic tube, I tried to swallow a few times so I could speak, I could barely ask if there was anyone there, trying to get someone’s attention to ask what was going on. This however was taking too, so I leaned up knowing I’d be able to find out more from the chart at the end of the bed. A seemingly simple task taking every ounce of strength I had recovered while asleep; I had to lay back for a short while laying the clip board on my lap while I took deep breaths through my nose allowing the nasal cannula to provide me with the oxygen I needed.

Pneumothorax, Bronchodilator, Pleurodesis May Be Required; these were a few of the things I read on the various pages of the clipboard, among lists of medications. I quietly placed the board on the table, knocking over a few cards that littered the bedside table. Taking a deep breath I began flipping through the cards, the odd one standing out as though someone honestly put effort in it, the rest seeming like there were done just to be done, most likely in school. That night and for the next few days I had numerous discussions with several doctors, nurses and my mother. Through pushing myself in class I had managed to begin a minor tear in one of my lungs, the blow to the chest only served to spread it and cause the lung to fully collapse. The severity of which was not solved by the chest tube which I had not noticed earlier due to it being hidden beneath the ugly green gown I had woken up wearing; meaning that I may need another surgery on my lungs. This fact was confirmed on the sixth day in the hospital as I was booked and prepped for a chemical Pleurodesis, a process where the doctor planned to burn the surface of my lung with an antibiotic or similar chemical to prevent a future collapse. My life after this second surgery consisted of regular tests missing the entire third trimester of my second senior year. I had begun to believe that I’d never go back to school when both the doctor and my mother came in with the intent of trying to convince me to go to a school for disabled children. I wanted to fight and argue, but considering the fact that at least twice a week I would have to miss school to go to see a doctor and have other tests done, as well as my medication and doses of pain killers needing to be adjusted and monitored. It only seemed natural to just give up and go with it, it was the only practical choice I had.

When this morning came, my bags were packed into the back of the car, my mom driving me to the town which Yamaku Academy was located, it was only a few hours from where we grew up and though I hadn’t felt home sick throughout my hospital stay, I most certainly was now, finding myself staring out window quietly. “You know Sakuna, there’s no way I could have home-schooled you, I was there a while ago and you’ll love it, It’s a small town, just like back home.” Those words seemed to hurt more than they helped; I kind of quietly nodded, noticing the town in the distance.

My mom had dropped me off at the gates to run through town to pick up a few things. So there I stood, all I had with me was just a small book bag, knowing that my mom was going to drop the rest of my bags in my room later. It felt strange to have another room that was ‘my room’ but considering I’ve got a new school as well so I guess it’s normal. I wasn’t sure if I’d call the gate welcoming or unwelcoming, so I decided I’d base that on the sound of the creak when it opens, a little childish, but the idea made me smile and was enough to get me through the gate. While I continued walking, looking around trying to find any reason for my apprehension, though I couldn’t find anything that was truly unwelcoming, even the gate barely made a sound. As I got just in front of the school I remembered, I was told to stop by the nurse’s office, though; I had no idea where it was, nor where I was supposed to go. “Left building, right building, which to go to, well the left one seems much taller, probably for different grades and classes, maybe the right one is the nurse’s area…” I muttered beneath my breath trying to figure out a plan.

Walking into the right building, inhaling deeply, being in the hospital so long, everything smells so good, I can smell the distinct smells of different types of flowers, I can even smell the fertilizer. Carrying on through the door, it looks more like a hospital than a school, though I suppose that’s fitting for a nursing area. Luckily the third door I walked up to had a sign saying head nurse, “well this must be it,” I said again talking to myself and knocking just a few times on the door. I couldn’t hear the reply so instead I just walked in, “hi, I’m Sonai, Sakuna Sonai, I was told to talk to the nurse before I went to class, and I’m assuming that’s you……” I droned off into silence wondering if the man sitting before an old computer was paying attention to me. Quickly looking over the room, I realize that there is something similar to a hospital room in the corner of the room including the bed, and draw curtain. Lining the man’s desk were numerous brown coffee rings, as well as folders and stacks of papers covering most every corner.

Finishing what he was typing, he turned and was clear that he seemed a little bit far from professional, his hair was scruffy, his lab coat type jacket hanging open over his cloths, and a large grin across his face. It seemed like he expected a much more typical question, however his interest seemed almost piqued by the fact that I didn’t. “Yes I am, seems some people still read nameplates,” he said almost laughing, “feel free to refer to me a just ‘the nurse.’”