Change (Camren) |On Hold|

Four

Within another week, Camila had chosen her first prosthetic leg and started to learn how to use the hospital's equivalent (it not being hers only because it takes a little while for them to arrive since it is completely customised to her needs and wants) with physiotherapy three times a week. She has also been given a wheelchair to use on the other days so she can get around a little, which she hates but decides it's better than being bed-ridden. She's coming to terms with her... new life, more and more each day, but she still has her off times and has often softly cried herself to sleep. She puts on a strong front though, for her sister and her parents, and for herself. Fake it 'til you make it.

This particular Wednesday, however, is a good day. She woke up with some new lease on life and is tackling the parallel bars like they're nothing, except for when she stumbles when her phone begins to play a familiar alarm.

Using a different ringtone for every alarm was great when she needed it, but now it feels like a kick to the gut.

She can practically see the words mocking her on the screen: 'Game Day! ⚽️'

"Camila?" Nathaniel, or Nate as she has begun to call him, questions, "Are you okay?"

Camila realises she's frozen in place, eyes glued to the darn thing in the place of her leg, and quickly shakes her head to bring herself back into the present.

"It's game day." She mumbles as a response, "Against our rivals. I shou-would be just getting my kit on to leave."

"Oh, Camila." He sighs and moves over to her with wide arms.

"It's okay." She waves his action off with a small sniffle, "Let me just turn it off."

He nods and moves to take her crutches from the wall to hand them to her, knowing she said 'let me' for a reason. He's come to learn that she's very independent which, whilst it can also make her stubborn at times, usually makes his job a little easier. She wants to be able to move around by herself, versus other patients who seem to hate his guts just because of what his appearance in their hospital room means. Well, maybe sometimes she does too. She takes the crutches and positions them under her arms.

With a few grunts of effort and a painfully slow pace, she reaches the bed where her phone had been placed and turns off the alarm, allowing herself a moment before turning and shuffling back to the parallel bars. The rest of the session goes by with a little less determination and motivation, but she makes a lot of progress, even being able to take one hand off of the bar today.

Pretty soon, she's getting tired and the session comes to a close. She is lowered into the wheelchair and escorted, though not pushed, back to her room.

"See you on Friday, Camila." The kind physiotherapist smiles and waves once she's in her room, her family waiting inside for her.

"Bye, Nate!" The girl replies with a grin and a wave of her own before the door closes and she turns to face her family.

"How'd it go?" They ask, and she answers excitedly, leaving out the part about the alarm going off.

...

"Special delivery!" Nate calls a few days later, knocking on the door until Camila went and answered it in her wheelchair.

"Is it here?" She questions, blocking the entrance with her chair.

The room itself seems to hold its breath until the man pulls a box from behind his back and nods.

Camila instantly takes it from his grasp and backs into the room so he can enter. The cardboard sits on her lap and she looks at it like it holds the answers to everything, but as though it is a curse too because to her, it is both. The discomfort that comes with the hospital prosthetic will no longer be so bad because this one is shaped specifically for her. The ugliness of the one she's been using will be diminished because she helped design the cover and shaping of this one, but it will still perform as she wants it to... mostly.

"Open it up!" the man who has become her friend urges impatiently.

Camila takes a deep, shaky breath before opening the end of the box and sliding out its contents. Still it is hidden by the bubble wrap that engulfs it.

"Now, the cover won't be arriving for another day or so," Nate informs the girl who nods, eyes glued to her lap, "but I still thought we could try it out today."

Camila's face is painted with excitement as she looks up to meet his eyes again, "Today?"

He nods with a soft chuckle and Camila moves, with shaky hands, to unravel the prosthetic from its protective confines, a new eagerness to her actions.

Soon enough, bubble wrap is sent flying through the air and on her lap now rests the thing she'd been anticipating for at least three weeks, though it felt much longer.