something that happened to me at the hospital, but I wrote it through the director's, Monica's, point of view.
And yes, I did "hear voices" and "see things". But I was in no hurry to get them taken away from me.
The doctor was explaining her blood results, but she wasn’t making eye contact, again. She sat folded up in her seat, looking quite intently at…nothing. The doctor stopped talking and she furrowed her brows. Ah, maybe she had been listening after all. We haven’t lost her yet.
“Kristina!” She looked at me, but her eyes kept shifting back to the empty space.
“I’m sorry. What?” She looked confused, and like she was trying to hear someone over loud party music.
“What do you hear right now?” I asked slowly.
She tensed. She denied animatedly about hearing voices or seeing people, but the evidence was there. She glanced back at the empty space once again, and stood up as if she had made a decision. “I only hear you, of course. Look. If there’s something wrong with my blood, give me a pill.” Her face was blank and her voice flat as she said this, and the doctor took notes. Suddenly she tensed and closed her eyes tight as if she were scared of something. She returned to her previous state in a second, though she was grinding her teeth now and her fists were clenched.
“Kristina…what do you hear?” I said, at the same time the doctor said “You don’t need pills, you need food.”
She glanced quickly at the two of us, then suddenly covered her ears and shut her eyes as her breathing became more labored. I stood and stepped toward her as she turned and ran out of the room, kicking and shaking the locked hospital door in the hallway. I reached her in a matter of seconds, as it was right outside the office. She turned again, her thin frame shaking violently as she ran quickly and gracefully out of mine and the other doctors’ reaches down to the other end of the hallway, where there was another locked door.
I held up a hand to the other doctors and walked calmly down the length of the hallway. Kristina spent a minute or so shaking and abusing the door with her hundred pound body as well as she could, then shot back as if she had been attacked. Her hands were over her ears again, before she collapsed down onto her knees and covered her mouth, with her other hand gripping her left arm. It first looked like she was grieving, but I quickly realized she was holding back a scream. She was in pain.
I ran to her as she bent over, tears finally falling down her emotionless face. I slid onto my knees in front of her and grabbed her shoulders. “What hurts?” We wanted her to show emotion, yes, but not physical pain. Even when she was in pain—for we had stuck her with so many needles and she had broken a bone or two because of her early onset osteoporosis—she never showed it. Something was horribly wrong.
“Now is not the time for the silent treatment, Kristina. What hurts?” She uncovered her mouth and gave out a high pitched cry, before opening her eyes wide and gasping. I looked down and saw her clutch her chest. She started falling over to her side, but I caught her and held her steady.
“She’s having a heart attack! Get the ER down here Now!” I took her pulse as her face calmed a little.
“Monica,” She choked out, “I won’t die yet. I’m not thin enough to die.”
I was about to disagree with her when she passed out, and her hand went limp as the ER team came running into the psych ward with their stretcher, for the fifth time that week.
Just PLEASE ask me a question. ANYTHING helps. Oh, and let me know how you want me to cite you (anonymous, username, real name, etc)