Life - Message From The Past

19-Where The Hell Am I?

Authorities were called to the seating area where they found Jeremy face down in the dirt without his shoes, belt, or cap. The Police tried to wake the foreignor but found him unresponsive.

They checked Jeremy's body to find bruising from his accident. Not wanting a public black eye of a tourist robbed and beaten they quickly had him taken to the closest city hospital. Their doctors took blood and monitored the man for hours trying to figure out why he would not respond. The routine bloodwork returned without the usual drugs or even alcohol but one number stood out to one doctor.

The raised number of platelets in his blood were cause for concern. It looked as though Jeremy could be on the cusp of a stroke or heart attack. Though this emergency room doctor read more into the numbers than just an elevated chance of something happening now but felt something had already taken place.

Dr. Ariella Candela Hernández had another set of bloodwork analyzed and found the true reason behind Jeremy's condition. When the results returned she had him moved from emergency to a room away from the bustling noise.

When her shift ended Ariella headed up to see the traveler in 301B. She sat on the chair next to the bed reading the test results trying to figure out why this man traveled to Mexico instead of being treated where he lived. She came to her own conclusion and waited for him to wake.

Jeremy's body appeared to relax as his body responded to the pain medication administered a short time before. The forty-year-old man squinted before opening his eyes fully to see the doctor at his bedside.

"Hello." The doctor spoke with the slightest of accents.

Jeremy pressed his lips together and offered the slightest of nods to the woman standing at his bedside. Even after her twenty-hour shift in the emergency department of the busiest hospital in the city she took the time to get to the bottom of this situation.

"Why are you here?" Ariella asked, knowing of his terminal condition.

He seemed disoriented and looked around before he spoke. The large window provided vast amounts of light overexposing the features of the room. "Where am I?" Jeremy had to shade his eyes from the afternoon sunlight.

"Mexico." Ariella stood over the patient. "I will ask you again. Why...are you here?" Lines above her eyebrows appeared along with an angry tone in her voice.

Jeremy shaded his eyes. "I don't understand your question." Then repeated his own question. "Where the hell am I?"

"You are in Hospital Reforma." The doctor folded her arms in front of her as she stood between Jeremy and the window. "The police dropped you off believing you were beaten and robbed. But these bruises are not new, are they?"

"Hospital? No no no no no!" Jeremy wanted to be anywhere but inside a hospital. "I need to leave."

"You have no money, no shoes, and no identification." Ariella stood and added. "Your clothes are being washed."

"I can not be here." Jeremy stood with only a hospital gown on. "I don't like hospitals."

Ariella stopped Jeremy. "Get back into bed! Now tell me who you are or I will call the police back!"

Jeremy sat and dared the doctor. "Call the police, I have nothing to hide."

"Are you in Mexico to die?" Ariella asked as she watched Jeremy's body language.