Chapitre 2: Was This Hell?
I took a calming breath. It didn't matter if the man and woman inside of the room with me knew I was awake. In fact, maybe I would get better treatment if they knew I was.
My eyelids were still much too heavy to open, but that was the least of my concerns. Why would they be talking about bruised ribs? The last thing I remembered was working in the ER department of the Toronto General Hospital. I was called in to examine a man that had most of his leg shot off? Sliced off? I didn't really know. All I knew was that the leg was holding on by a flap of skin and a chunk of the gracilis muscle.
All the major blood vessels had been severed, as well as the sciatic nerve and the smaller nerve endings. In fact, the only reason why he wasn't dead on arrival was because someone was smart enough to place a belt around his upper thigh, cutting off his blood supply. However, the lack of blood was also damaging the last bit of skin and muscle.
His leg was literally hanging on by a thread.
I told them flat out that we would have to remove the leg; it was pretty much gone anyway, and when he was ready, we would get him a prosthetic leg to ensure his quality of life.
Apparently, he didn't like that because before I knew it, he had taken out a gun and had shot me in the head.
Wait…
If I were shot in the head, then I would be dead. I mean, there was always the chance that the bullet would not cause death, but I was sure that he shot me between the eyes. Not much chance of coming back from that.
So, if I was dead, why was I back in a hospital? Did I end up in Hell? Was this one specific to a doctor? Forever a patient because we suck at it?
But I was cold. I thought Hell was supposed to be hot. Not Hell then… heaven? Nope, I was pretty sure that I didn't qualify for heaven. So what the heck was going on?
"I think she is waking up!" said the woman excitedly. I felt her take my hand and bring it up to her mouth. The warmth of her breath was a sharp contrast to the coldness of the room, making me even colder.
"Tian Mu?" said the woman, brushing the hair off my face. "Tian Mu, it's mommy. Can you hear me, baby? Come back to me, sweetness, and I'll make you your favorite dinner."
Tian Mu? Well, at least I knew she was talking to me. But my mother died when I was 18, so there was no way it was my mom.
Light pierced my eyes as their lids were forced open, and a flashlight sent blistering pain crashing into my brain.
Then there was a gasp.
"What's wrong with her eyes?" demanded the woman as I forced my eyes closed. Fuck. My eyes. I am going to assume that my contact was not in for some reason, and they saw my eyes.
"I don't know," muttered the doctor, once again forcing my eyes open.
"Stop it," I snapped, forcing the words out through my parched throat. "You already checked the pupil response; there is no reason to do it a second time."
There was silence at my statement, but I really didn't care. Clearly, this doctor didn't practice the whole 'do no harm' part of his oath. It would have been much less cruel to simply stick a knife in my head. It would have hurt a whole lot less, too.
"Tian Mu?" came the hesitant female voice next to me. "Baby, are you okay?"
"I will be better with a more competent doctor… and maybe some ice chips. But yes, I am fine," I said, even though I felt like I had just one one-month bender. Did I swallow a cat or something? The taste and the fur inside of my mouth made me want to puke, and I needed something to wash out.
"Please, Sir, don't listen to her. She is just a child. It's not like she knows what she is saying," said the woman hurriedly.
"Please, I am not a child," I sneered, still not opening my eyes. They were lucky I was awake with how much my head was pounding. "And I could use 0.2mg of morphine when you get the chance. My head is pounding, which, combined with the fact I want to vomit, means that I probably have a concussion."
"Tian Mu! I didn't raise you to be this disrespectful. I am so sorry, Sir. I am sure that it is just because she is in pain," stammered the woman, rushing to pacify this quack of a doctor.
I don't know where she got off apologizing to him like she had some right to. My family died seven years ago.
If she was running some kind of a scam, then I hope she realized that I had no money. I was still trying to pay off my debts. It wasn't cheap to become a doctor, even one as successful as me.
"I think we are going to have to run some more tests," grumbled the doctor, and I could hear him scratching something down. I could only assume that he had a clipboard in his hand to make notes. "We'll need both an MRI as well as a PET scan to see what is going on."
There was silence in the room, but inside of my head, I was screaming. There was nothing wrong with my brain that some morphine and a good night's sleep couldn't cure.
"Do you think she hit her head harder than we suspected?" asked the woman tentatively. "Is that why she has two different color eyes?"
I had to roll my different colored eyes. Heterochromia was the result of a harmless genetic mutation. It didn't present simply because you hit your head too hard.
I had to deal with enough comments about my 'freaky' eyes that I took to wearing a single brown contact to cover my blue eye.
Maybe I hit my head hard enough to knock it out…
But that wouldn't explain how I was alive with a GSW to the head.
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone