COVERED IN DAISIES

1. AFTER THE RESCUE

"Doctor....Doctor...Doc..." I shouted and kicked the glass door open, with the lady still at my back. The smell of hospital filled my nostrils.

"Doctor, please help her." I said when we got to where the man in the white overall dress stood.

"Nurses come here immediately." the doctor called out. They took her from my back, laid her on the gurney and pushed it gently to the nearby room.

She laid stiff on the stretcher, not even moving her head. Her facial expression which usually spoke to me, now appeared blank.

She crossed her hands across the chest area, not knowing whether she felt cold or shy. No one could tell; not even her facial expression.

I was asked to wait outside while they treated her.
I waited in front of the room, moving jerkily across the hallway and constantly passing my hands through my unkempt hair.

After some minutes of what felt like forever, the Doctor came back from the room.

I wanted to read the news from the Doctor's face before he said it, but his face appeared expressionless. Maybe real life Doctors could do that, but not in movies, where the family of the patient will nearly choke the Doctor to death after sensing the dull expression on his face.

The Doctor whose name was written on the name tag on his shirt as Dr. David Davidson, sighed and spoke. "Mr...." he raised his eyebrow which widened his eyes, expecting me to mention my name.
"James...Just call me James sir." I said respectfully.

"Okay James, She's fine; there's nothing to worry about. She's just in a state of shock from whatever happened to her. Trying to process everything that happened. That is what's making her not want to have any conversation at all."

I gave a heavy sigh. A grin appeared on my face. I was happy she was okay. And even though I didn't really know much about her, I cared. I somehow felt like she was my responsibility.

I didn't want to leave her alone, I wanted to help her through whatever she was going through.
I promise.

"And also, she's a little feverish. Don't worry about that either, she'll feel better soon after taking the medication we'd recommend." he said and parted my shoulders.

I nodded my head in response to all the Doctor had said.
"So can I go and see her now"? I asked anxiously.

"Of course, just don't pressure her into any conversation now, she'd need some alone time for a while."

"Yes sir, I'll do exactly that."
"Great." he said and turned to leave.

"Wait...wait James" he called and walked back towards me.

"If I may ask, what exactly happened to her. I'm asking because I think she might be having PTSD."

"P.. What!" I shouted. "Can you please repeat it?" I leaned forward towards the Doctor with a concerned look.

Usually, it's the rare and dangerous sicknesses that have their names shortened. No one wants to pronounce them as they even feared the name. At least that's what I thought.

The Doctor chuckled and spoke. "It's not a rare or dangerous disease like you think it is. 'PTSD' just stands for 'Post Traumatic Stress Disorder'. It's a disorder characterized by illusions that a past traumatic event is recurring and severe reactions to stress-inducing stimuli."

"Forgive me for making your job difficult Doctor, but can you please explain this in plain English?" I said and squished my eyebrows together showing my confusion.