hospital beds {remington leith short story}

two

When I come back to my senses, my world is black. Internally, I relax....I know I'm just asleep. I'm not what the doctors would call comatose anymore. That's what I must have been in yesterday....I hardly remember it but I can never forget the whiteness of the state I know all too well. 

I open my eyes, feeling the small, light tickles of oxygen at my nostrils. I wonder what happened while I was asleep to warrant that. To my left, Remington is asleep in the chair. I reach out, touching his cheek with the back of my hand lightly. His skin is soft, and it causes tears to spring to my eyes. I'm not always coherent enough to feel his skin, touch him. Sometimes, as much as I want to touch him, I'm not able to....and that makes me sad. I reach out with my other hand, tubes and IVs pulling with the movement. I cup his face, running my thumbs across his cheekbones. He's so fucking pretty, oh my God. 

Remington's eyelids flutter open, his eyes glowing as they look up to me. "Hi, sweetheart. Do you remember me?" I smile, nodding. 

"You're my Remington." I say, continuing to move my fingertips across his facial features. 

"That's right, darling. I'm your Remington. God, you're fucking pretty." The last part comes mumbled under his breath, and I smile down at him. 

"Lips?" I ask, trying to learn forward but quickly learning I can't due to the abundance of things leaving my body. 

"You want a kiss?" I nod. "Okay, hold on....stop trying to move, baby; you'll hurt yourself." He leans up now, pressing his lips to mine. My hands immediately cup his cheeks, and I kiss back eagerly. I've missed kissing my boyfriend. Remington pulls back and readjusts the oxygen going into my nose. "You're probably wondering how this got here, huh?" I nod, my throat still raw from yesterday's intubation. "You were having some trouble last night when you were sleeping. They said you were within safe levels still, but I guess they can never be too sure around here."

"I love you so much," I sigh. 

"I love you more, baby. Are you excited to see your parents today?" I nod. 

"I think I am. They're nice, aren't they?"

"Very nice," Remington says, swiping his hand across my forehead. If I had hair left, I'm sure he'd be brushing it away. I remember him doing so before I, y'know, started dying. I still remember the day I got diagnosed. No matter how bad I get, I don't think I'm capable of forgetting that day. The way I felt, the look in Remington's eyes. 

I was sixteen at the time, three years ago. Remington and I had been dating for about a year and a half, and I loved that boy with my whole heart. I still do; he's the center of my world and all I do. But even then....I knew how special he was, how big of a part he was in my life. One morning, I woke up and found a lump in my neck, but I didn't think anything of it....until I couldn't swallow. My mom rushed me to the Emergency Room, where they did so, so many tests. Blood draws, ultrasounds, MRIs, all while pumping my  body full of saline and pain meds to keep me comfortable. 

Around two in the morning, they called in a specialist. I was transported to a larger children's hospital in downtown Toronto. I remember the ambulance ride, the way snow fell lightly to the ground and for a moment, everything seemed serene and peaceful. Icicles dangled from buildings; shops and houses alike. It was beautiful, but once we arrived at the new hospital, all hell broke loose. 

I had a biopsy almost immediately. It was only about 3:30 in the morning, but they said they couldn't afford to wait until the surgeons came on-call at six. So, with my head tilted back on an Emergency Room gurney, two medical students, a resident, and an attending physician stuck a needle into my throat. It only lasted a few seconds, maybe a minute, but despite the numbing lidocaine and anti-anxiety drugs I was given, it was not a pleasant feeling.