I'm really sorry about the lack of updating. Exams and stuff. I hope I can update more often now, because I love you all!! Vote, comment and enjoy! Much love- C xx
It was three days before Jackson was
brought back onto the big ward. He'd had a stroke, as his brain damage had somehow taken hold. I knew his sight was going to be fixed-hopefully- soon, but now he had another one of his many medical problems.
I, to be, honest, wasn't feeling too hot. My head had been hurting, and although I was telling myself it was nothing, there was of course a tiny part of me that thought about the brain bleed. Obviously, it was all fixed now, but the problem was that it was so constantly on my mind that the suspicion was roused constantly.
I was allowed to go and talk to Jackson the day after he returned to the ward, although Dr Grey had warned me he wasn't up to much.
'Hi, Jackson,' I almost whispered as I wheeled myself in the wheelchair I'd be given to get myself around in after objecting to constantly being pushed.
'H... Hey, Lola.' He spoke slowly and very breathlessly and I resisted the urge to reprimand him for his stupidity just yet.
'You feeling alright?'
'Better. S-s-sorry, Lola.'
'It's okay. It'll all be okay now.'
He almost smiled, and I decided I'd leave him for now. He was clearly exhausted, and my headache was getting worse by the minute. I flagged down Nurse Ruiz, the nurse who had helped me get the message of Jackson's addiction to his doctors.
'Juan,' I said, plonking myself down onto my bed, 'My head is killing me.'
He cocked his head to one side. 'You had head trauma, didn't you?'
'Yeah, internal bleed.'
He pursed his lips. 'Going for Robbins,' I heard him mutter as he sped off down the corridor, as always as quickly as humanly possible whilst not breaking a sweat. Weird guy.
Dr Robbins came in half an hour later with my notes and chart. 'We need to get you in for some scans, Lola,' she said apologetically, 'I'll let Juan take you down to radiography and I'll meet you down there in an hour when everything's been looked at. Cool?'
I nodded, and allowed myself to be helped into my chair, which Juan began to push. I groaned.
'Lola,' he said, in mock annoyance, 'I'm only pushing you. Chill out.'
'I'm not an invalid.'
'Well, you're a hospital patient with head pain. You do the math.'
It dawned on me then- and I wondered why it hadn't before- that this wasn't a normal headache.
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