The Secret Five #Wattys2016

The Hospital-Trace

                   

I had to have surgery on my ankles; a major surgery on my right ankle and a minor one on my left ankle. They put my right ankle in a cast and my left ankle just has a giant bandage on it. I have to keep the right one elevated so blood can flow to it.

         The doctors wouldn't allow me visitors until today and I'm nervous about my father coming. I missed him, but did he really miss me.

         "Trace," a doctor came into my room, the same doctor I've had for three days now, Dr. Wallace. "How is your pain level?"

         "It's numb," I said in a raspy voice. "It's been numb for months. My left ankle hurts where the incision is."

         "I have to change the dressing anyway because you have a higher chance of getting an infection."

         "Why?"

         "Your friend has a viral infection, which is serious considering he is having seizures from it. Also, you were in the middle of nowhere for ten months and who knows what other things could have been there." I just lay there while he washed his hands, put gloves on, and pulled up a tray of bandages, tape, gauze, and many tools. He slowly pulled the bandage off and while doing so, my skin began to burn.

         "OW!" I screamed.

         "What?" Dr. Wallace stopped. "What's wrong, Trace?"

         "It burns; my skin is burning right now!" I closed my eyes tightly and gripped onto the railing of my bed. "The bruises are burning!"

         "You don't have any bruises on your ankle. What's going on right now?"

         "The bruises, the grip, it's too tight and burning my skin!"

         I felt like I was being held down again. The tightness of the two hands that were holding me underwater, the burning of Anya touching the bruises a day later, how walking was impossible.

         Water. It wanted to kill me. It was eating me.

         I started to choke and put my hand to my throat. Dr. Wallace was yelling but I couldn't hear what he was saying because my ears were filling with water.

         "Trace, Trace, I'm here," I heard my father's voice. "I'm right here, daddy's here." I opened my eyes to find my father leaning over me, crying. "Trace," he smiled and hugged me.

         "Dad?" he nodded and sat down on my bed. I let tears fall and closed my eyes. "I'm so sorry for everything I ever said to you and for all the fights I caused. The whole time I was in that cabin I thought about how badly I treated you and how Mom wouldn't want me to be fighting with you. I'm sorry, Dad." I hugged him and he squeezed me close to his chest. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

         "It's okay, bud. I've been feeling awful about fighting with you and leaving you alone at home. I will be home from now on and help you recover. You went through a lot and need help."

         "I'm scared, Dad."

         "I know. You just freaked out and Dr. Wallace gave you a small sedative and called me in to calm you down. He was able to change your dressing but you freaked out again when they brought in a cup of water for you to swallow your pills."

         "No. Keep it away from me. I don't want water near me, bring me juice or lemonade, no water. Please, not until I'm ready and have dealt with the pain and got used to the idea of water being everywhere."