Lost and Found

Self Conflicts

Dad's P.O.V.

7:52 p.m.

I have arrived at the hospital.

Should I go in? I don't want to.

But I have to.

No turning back now.

Actually I could. It'd be fairly simple. Just put the car in reverse and leave. I could just avoid this. Couldn't I? No, I wouldn't be able to. I'm too far into it. Not necessarily physically but mentally.

I walk through the doors and feel that tight, constraining feeling.

I hate hospitals.

Something about them makes me just hate them.

Sure they save people, but come on, when you wake up do you really want to be surrounded by a light blue or white room with tubes and wires all around you? And with nurses and doctors inspecting you like a specimen?

I prefer the kid rooms over this. At least they have colorful rainbows and butterflies in them.

Maybe I hate hospitals because of how often I would visit them.

I would go with Emily for her pregnancy checks and things.

And then when Jamie fell down the stairs and had to get stitches.

And when I drove into a tree.

And, and, and...

Maybe this is why everyone hates hospitals- because they only come here when bad things happen.