HOSPITAL BEDS • Elounor •

8 | Celebrate

CHAPTER VIII

"Celebrate"

The following morning was not exactly what I had expected. I was supposed to start with my recover treatment and to be happy about it, but a presence next to me reminded me it could go otherwise.

I had breakfast earlier than usual; Eleanor was still asleep, so I simply looked at her while having a coffee. It was a view which I had got used to.

"Are you ready, Mr. Tomlinson?" the doctor asked me entering the room.

"I should, right?"

"Oh, c'mon!" He went out to bring a wheelchair. When I saw it at the end of my bed I tensed. I imagined the rest of my life spent in that horrible chair. I tried to hide my fear, but I knew quiet well that I'd failed.

He, with another nurse, helped to get up and lifted me for me to sit there. It felt horrible, as if I had been put in a wrong place. The doctor took a few seconds to fill some papers and then pushed my wheelchair out the room. I had a last glance to the sleeping Eleanor, but she was awake now, looking at me.

"Good luck," she whispered and move, very little, her hand to say goodbye.

The right second I crossed the door, I started to miss her presence.

I was taken to a different room, full of beds and different doctors working with other patients. All of them had one thing in common... they were all... hurt. Some could not walk, some were in wheelchairs like me, and some of them were better and starting to walk again. I thought if I would be able to reach that stage someday.

"Louis, this is Bella. She is going to be your doctor from now on," my old doctor said pointing at a blonde woman standing next to him.

"Hello," I said.

"Hello, son. How do you feel today?" For her look, I'd say she was my mother's age.

"Fine," I said but my face showed something different.

"Okay, then, there's no time to lose."

I was "pushed" to an empty bed between an old lady and a young girl. I was explained that the first stage of the treatment was a series of analysis, followed by massage sessions. It was not much, or at least that is what it seemed to me.

I felt proud of myself; I was taking everything really well, as a very mature man... until the end.

"So, doctor,"

"Yes?" she asked me helping me to go back to my chair after the massages.

"I need to know something. How many chances do I have to walk again?"

The lady looked at me and then at the floor. I knew what her answer would be. "I won't lie to you, Louis. You suffered a terrible accident, I can give you no guarantee you'll go back to your normal life."

And with that, I was taken to my room. I cried all the way back but tried to recover before entering and facing Eleanor. At least one of us had to be strong.

As soon as the doctor opened the door and pushed my wheelchair in, she looked for my face and asked me:

"So how was it?!"

My lack of answer made her notice my uneasiness. When we were left alone in our room, I started crying again looking at the ceiling so El couldn't see me.

"It's okay if you feel bad and want to cry; after all, we have nothing to celebrate for." She said, looking at the ceiling too.

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