This is a spin-off of several works I have completed or are currently underway.
This series of short stories will follow a few of my characters through the rehabilitation process until they have their moment of clarity.
Some issues dealt with in thi...
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"When do I get to know my vitals?" I asked, trying to crane my neck to see the scale behind me. "Is it weighing my feeding tube too?"
"Step off," Nurse Olivia said. "The feeding tube hardly makes a difference in the numbers, Emily. And it's not appropriate in your recovery timeline for us to start telling you your weight."
Recovery timeline. I hate it when Dr. Pulitz says that. "How am I supposed to properly recover if you guys keep things from me?"
She chuckled. "I've heard all of the excuses, Emily. Go on and get dressed."
I made my way back to my room with a sigh, surprised to see Nurse Emerson standing there.
"Jane Anne wants to see you."
This early? That can't be good.
I pulled on my usual, oversized sweatshirt and a sweatpants, before following Nurse Emerson to Jane Anne's office.
"Good morning, Emily," she said, with a smile.
"Good morning."
I took my seat, and she handed me a sheet of paper.
It was the emotions worksheet again.
"Fill that out for me," Jane Anne said.
I shoved the worksheet back toward her. "I'm not filling out another worksheet for you to shove into my file, never to be seen again."
She just smiled. "I think you'll be surprised."
Clearly this wasn't up for negotiation.
I took my time filling it out, evaluating each answer.
Jane Anne took the completed worksheet from me and reached inside of her file cabinet, pulling out my file.
I watched as she extracted the worksheet I'd completed when I first came, and she placed the two side-by-side.
"Let's review the answers, shall we?"
I felt a small spark of excitement inside of me. "We're finally going to look at it?"
She nodded. "And I think the comparison might shock you."
I couldn't have changed that much.
"The first prompt is I feel happy when..." she reminded me. "For our first session, you wrote I feel happy when they notice me."
I felt the tears spring to my eyes, because it'd been true. I'd always felt happy when my mom, dad, brother, or boyfriend noticed me, when they just took a second to acknowledge my presence.
"This time around," Jane Anne continued, "you wrote I feel happy when I smile."
She glanced up at me. "Is there anything you want say to that?"
