The first thing I heard as I slowly awoke was the sound of high-pitched beeping coming from my right-hand side, along with the quiet chattering of people off in the distance. Quickly I realised that I was lying down on what felt like a bed, or a poor imitation of one at least based on the stiff pain I could currently feel along my back and everywhere else for that matter. I slowly opened my eyes with excruciating effort. At least I tried to before I was immediately blinded by a bright glaring light that shone directly into my eyes and forced my eyes closed once again. As I shut out the pain-inducing light before me and struggled to regain my vision I tried to come to grips with what had happened; my mind incredibly jumbled from having just woken up.
I lurched forward suddenly as the memories of what had just taken place that day, or what I thought was that day, came rushing back. A decision I Immediately regretted as my body proceeded to scream in gut-wrenching pain, making what had happened with the light seem almost pleasant in comparison. My bones creaked like rusty hinges and what muscles I had cramped erratically, leading to even the smallest movement to feel as if they were tearing themselves apart. The sudden movement also led to the return of that bone-drilling migraine at full force, almost making me lose consciousness once again. The only positive was the disappearance of the dreary bone-chilling cold that had followed me all morning like a haunting ghost, allowing me to bask in the small amount of warmth the so-called bed provided.
I stayed silent, unmoving, allowing the pain and agony to continuously wash over me in relentless attack before it slowly started to recede. As the pain went away and I let out a shaky breath in relief, my vision also began to return, adjusting to the glaring light present in the room. Once it did I looked around, noticing the pristine-looking room before me. The bed, the walls and the floor were all squeaky clean and an eye-blinding white, the only hint of colour being the pastel blue ceiling, breaking up the monotonous-looking room.
However, it was only when I looked to my right, trying to locate the source of that constant beeping that hadn’t stopped since I awoke, that I realised where I was. Beside me stood an old-looking machine, standing a bit lower than head height and looking like a miniature TV, displaying a series of numbers that constantly fluctuated with one of them appearing to be my heart rate.
‘Looks like Sam was right after all.’ I thought jokingly to myself, remembering how worried and urgent he felt that I needed to go get checked out. Which it seemed I inadvertently ended up doing, though I wasn’t exactly sure how.
While I continued scanning my surroundings, observing the grey and white wires from the heart rate monitor that snaked towards me and under my old grey hoodie, I noticed a small bright red button connected to the wall behind me. A button that stood out in the sea of otherwise blandness. Upon closer inspection, I realised it to be a call button, used to get a nurse's attention. I pressed it promptly, possessing a myriad of questions and in dire need of some answers. Less than a minute later the wooden door to the room was pushed open as a cheery middle-aged nurse hustled through, smiling towards me in greeting.
“Hello deary, it’s good to see you awake! How are you feeling? Is anything uncomfortable? Do you want anything to eat? I’ll go and get Dr. Soren for you now alrighty?” Like a whirlwind, she came and left in a blur, giving me zero chance to respond to any of her questions before vacating the room.
After barely a minute more the door was once again opened but instead of being greeted by the enthusiastic nurse from before, it was instead an older man. A man who looked to be in his early fifties with dark black hair and the occasional white strand peppered throughout, primarily around the sides. He also had pale blue eyes, shown clearly through a pair of large circular glasses he wore. A small, calming smile graced his lip as he steadily walked towards me.
“Ah! Good evening Mr. Collins. How are you feeling? Any aches or pains?”
“Uhh, I think I’m alright,” I answered dumbly as I went to sit myself up, grunting in pain from the use of my arms. “Actually I feel like shit if I’m being honest. I feel like I’ve just been hit by a truck.” As I spoke I felt a dull pain spread across my face and that seemed to originate from my jaw. Tentatively, I reached my hand towards my jaw and with a start felt the swollen mess it had somehow become.
Dr Soren, seeing the confusion on my swollen face, replied. “From what the paramedics told me when you arrived it seemed you had gotten into a nasty fight and received a heavy punch to the face. I’m afraid your jaw is going to be swollen for at least a few days.”
Hearing this I released a sigh, realising that the punch I saw from Matthew right before I collapsed must have connected.“Just my luck.” I muttered as I tentatively rubbed my jaw. “Well, at least it’s not like my day could get any worse.” I said jokingly, looking back towards the doctor.
Dr. Soren didn’t look back. His face was impassive and his eyes downcast. Reflecting a sense of sadness that immediately put me on edge as I felt a growing ball of apprehension in the pit of my stomach. A ball that only grew bigger as he eventually turned back towards me and spoke in a sombre tone.
“Mr Collins, There is no easy way to tell you this but I’m afraid I have some terrible news.” My blood froze. My knuckles an ashen white from how hard I was gripping the blanket underneath. Nevertheless, The doctor continued, “We ran some tests while you were asleep and we believe you to be suffering from something known as ‘chronic obstructive pulmonary disease’. Or COPD for short.”
Time seemed to freeze as I sat there in shock, staring towards the doctor. Waiting, praying for him to say he was messing around. That this was all just a big joke. Yet as the silence drew on, the only sound able to be heard being the rapid beeping of the heart rate monitor beside me, I realised he was serious.
“I don’t understand. What does that actually mean?” I asked, unable to keep the quiver out of my voice. A sense of worry filled me, as even despite never hearing of it before, I could tell just from the name, and the serious expression the doctor wore, it wasn’t anything good.
Without even giving the doctor a chance to respond I continued speaking in a panicked frenzy. “This must be some kind of mistake. I just have a regular cold. It doesn’t make any sense. You must have made a mistake!” My voice grew in strength, becoming a shrill yell by the end and drowning out all other noise in the room.
Dr. Soren began speaking as he walked towards me with apprehension. Yet whatever he said I couldn’t hear a word, the sound of my heart drumming and my blood pumping overpowering his voice. I felt the pain in my chest return with a vengeance as my breathing became short and sharp, leaving me gasping for air. I don’t know how long I stayed in that state of panic, only coming out of it when I felt a pair of hands firmly grasp each of my shoulders, pausing the slight rocking I had inadvertently been doing. I looked upwards to the source, making eye contact with a pair of solemn icy blue eyes.
“Adam, I’m so sorry.” The doctor whispered, forsaking the use of my last name, not like I even realised. A silence descended upon the room as I just sat there in shock, still unable to process what I had been told.
Dr. Soren continued to look on in sadness before beginning to speak once again. Answering the questions I had asked in my state of panic.
“I’m afraid there is no mistake Adam. We ran the tests multiple times just to confirm and you do appear to be suffering from chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. A disease that primarily affects and deteriorates your lungs and chest and can lead to a weakened immune system. Something that has no doubt contributed to the worsened effects of the cold you are also suffering from.”
“You’re wrong! How would I even get this disease? I’m only fucking 17!” I all but screamed back, finding my voice once again as I continued to vehemently deny what I had already started to realise was the truth.
“There are many different causes for this disease. Such as genetics, smoking or inhalation of certain fumes and chemicals. Although in most cases, people suffering from COPD won’t show symptoms until their late 40's. However, from the scans we procured, it appears the damage to your lungs is extensive, far more than should be even possible for a person your age.”
As he finished talking his eyes narrowed as he scanned me from head to toe in concentration, looking at me in question. He did this for what felt like minutes, leaving me feeling like a lab rat. “I have to ask.” He eventually said, his eyes returning back to normal. “And I hope you will be honest with me but I need to know how you could have possibly damaged your lungs to such an effect. Do you smoke?”
“No. Never.” I replied in outrage. While I had no shame in admitting I wasn’t the healthiest person to ever live, having no issue with junk food or alcohol. Smoking was one of the only things I would never do. Especially not after what had happened with my mother.
“Cigarettes are far too expensive” I joked, or at least attempted to, not wanting to tell him the true reason.
“Then maybe secondhand smoke?” He asked himself before promptly shutting down the idea “No, that wouldn’t have been able to cause this much lasting damage so quickly.” He looked up towards the ceiling, clearly lost in thought. “Have you ever been around welding fumes or certain dust, such as cadmium or coal dust for a long period of time?”
I was about to immediately decline, knowing I had never been anywhere remotely near where those fumes could be present. However, before I could, I suddenly remembered. Remembered the constant oxygen-depriving smog that covered the sky around where I lived. The persistent presence of smoke, smoke that clouded my vision both indoors and out. The smell of sulphur and chemicals that clung to everything I owned.
“I’m guessing that's a yes then?” Dr. Soren asked, seeing my reaction. I numbly nodded my head.
Both his calm demeanour and explanation throughout the whole ordeal seemed to have taken the wind out of my sails as I fell back down onto the bed. Looking once more at the bright lights up above, staring blankly as my mind tried to process all that had happened.
After what felt like a lifetime I looked back towards the doctor, all the strength and anger I once held disappeared, leaving me blank and empty. “What does this mean then? Is it permanent? Am I going to have to stay in the hospital for the rest of my life?” I all but whispered in worry, my throat as dry as a desert, leaving my voice a scratchy mess.
Dr. Soren simply stood there, his calm demeanour slipping to one of both sadness and pity. “From the damage already done to your lungs and the nature of the disease, the most we will be able to do is try and slow the speed of any further damage that takes place. But I’m afraid that's all we can do.”
As the words registered in my ears, I continued to stare blankly upwards at the ceiling, feeling large droplets of tears form in the corner of my eyes and begin to cascade down the sides of my face. I let loose an array of painful chokes as I all but broke down at the unspoken words of the doctor that rattled inside my brain. I was going to die.
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After what felt like an eternity, with no more tears able to be shed and the unwiped trails they left dried on my face, I looked back to Dr. Soren who had stood there the entire time in silence, giving me time to come to terms with all I had learnt. Something which I was nowhere close to doing.
“How long do I have left?”
If Dr. Soren was surprised by the bluntness of my question, he didn't show it. “If you stayed here at the hospital… maybe four to five months. However, if you decide to be look after at home you’re looking closer to three.” He stated.
“I see.”
“I can understand that this is a lot to process and I can’t imagine what you must be feeling at this moment. If you would like, why don’t you take tonight to think things over and consider how you want to proceed from here? I will just go and give your emergency contact a call and inform them that you're here.”
As he turned around and started heading towards the door, I quickly jumped up, eliciting a painful hiss as I agitated my injured body in the process. “Wait, stop!” I shouted, waving my arms in a wild manner in panic. “Please don’t call my dad, he uhh, can't afford to leave work early.”
The moment the words left my mouth I knew it was a piss-poor attempt at an excuse. A sentiment the doctor shared if the confusion and scepticism portrayed on his face were anything to go by. While we did have money issues it wasn’t as if my dad leaving a few hours early was going to bankrupt us both. The real reason I didn’t want him to inform my dad was simple, I just didn’t want anybody to know, not even my dad. At least not until I had fully come to terms with what it meant and everything it entailed.
Dr. Soren, clearly not sure how to proceed, cautiously replied. “I’m afraid that If you're staying the night we have no other choice but to inform your emergency contact due to you not yet being eighteen years of age. Hospital policy I’m afraid.”
Realising that he was most likely telling the truth I let loose a sigh, knowing that if I didn’t want my dad to know I only had one option. “Then I won’t stay the night.” I proclaimed as I immediately began trying to escape the confines of the bed.
Following up on my statement before he even had a chance to respond. “You said yourself that it doesn’t matter whether I stay here or go back home. That I’m going to die regardless. If that’s the case then I choose home.”
As I continued my struggle, feeling a growing hatred for whoever wrapped me up so tightly in this bed, Dr. Soren took a step closer, his hands once again reaching down to my shoulders and stopping my movements. “I understand this is a lot of information to process, especially in such a short amount of time. Information that no one deserves to receive. And I know that you're panicking, but you need to try and stay calm.”
He paused for a moment, making sure I wasn’t going to continue a hasty escape. Seeing that I wasn’t, he moved his hands away, taking a step back before continuing. “In my personal opinion, as your doctor, you should stay the night. Not only to think about how you want to proceed in the coming months but also so we can monitor your condition. After all, the flu in your system that worsened your symptoms hasn’t yet entirely left.”
Knowing that he wasn’t going to let me leave easily without first thinking it through, I tried to calm my frantic heart which had been beating like a hummingbird’s wing for so long that the heart rate monitor was almost releasing one consistent beep. Once it finally went down to a, if not slow, at least manageable level, I took a minute to think about what he said and recommended before coming to a decision.
“No. Thank you for the offer but I really don’t want my dad to know about all this at the moment. And in truth, right now, all I want is to be as far away from here as possible.” I said, flashing a small but shaky smile.
He let out a long sigh in defeat, seeing that I wasn’t going to be changing my mind anytime soon. “Alright, if you want to leave then you can do so but please think about staying here for treatment. Even though the damage isn’t reversible, we can still slow down the spread of said damage and extend your life expectancy by almost double.”
“I will'' I said quickly before I all but jumped out the bed, ignoring the pain such an action caused.
I pulled off the straps of the heart rate monitor still attached and rushed to collect all my belongings that were placed by the side of my bed, wanting nothing more than to be gone from the hospital as soon as possible. Once I had collected everything I went to rush out of the room. However, before I could even get past the door Dr. Soren drew my attention once more, having one last thing left to say.
“Adam, no matter what decision you make, be sure to come back in a couple of days. I have some medication I want to prescribe you that can help lessen the damage to your lungs. I should be able to get it ordered by then.”
At that point, I was barely listening, too focused on just getting away. Shouting a confirmation as well as a goodbye I jogged past Dr. Soren and through the door into the long, white hallways of the hospital. All I could focus on was leaving the hospital and being alone, so much so that I wasn’t sure if Dr. Soren had even said a farewell back. As I ran all I could feel was the beating of my heart, a beating so strong that it felt as if my heart would leap out of my chest at any second. The sound of blood rushed through my ears in tandem with my pumping heart, overpowering any sound or chatter of the people cluttering the hallways. I followed every twist and turn of the halls. Each one an exact copy of the last giving the illusion that I was trapped, lost in a sterile white maze with no way out.
Just as I felt my anxiety start to peak and my vision began to blur, after one last turn through the halls, I entered the hospital's entrance, spotting the main entrance doors not too far in front. My jogging pace immediately turned into a full-blown sprint at the sight of my goal. I charged forward, accidentally barging into a few disgruntled people in the process before, with a leap, I smashed through the front doors of the hospital. Immediately as I stepped into the outside world I was hit by the cool evening wind that blew past. I quickly took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh, chilling air, the smell of the fresh grass replacing the sterile scent that overpowered my senses prior.
Now that I was outside I slowly started to calm down. My tight bundle of nerves slowly loosened as I stared out at the darkening sky. A sky covered with a multitude of dark blue and purple clouds, slowly rolling across the horizon unimpeded, striking a sense of envy and longing within me for reasons I couldn’t explain.
It was then, giving one last glance to the hospital behind me, than I began walking forward, my pace slow and carefree as I moved with no destination in mind. My mind was blank, my only thoughts revolving around my immediate surroundings and deciding which direction I should take. This lasted for what felt like hours. Until, finally, I came to a stop, finding myself in an unfamiliar area at the top of a grassy hill, the grass a bright green even in the darkened surroundings. On top of which a great oak tree stood, steady and tall at the centre of the hill. Nearby the edge of a lazily flowing stream could be seen, the sound of the flowing water releasing a soothing song. I looked around once more, the sky now thoroughly dark with only a few scant sightings of starlight held within and the streets all but deserted except for the rare passerby rushing along.
I sat down upon the hill, uncaring towards the grass stains that would inevitably be found upon my trousers, and stared towards the spilling river, getting lost in the mesmerising flow the water followed. As I stared ahead I finally allowed myself time to think, to truly think about my situation and what it meant. To think about my death. Tears quickly started to pour out the moment I did, running down my face like the river along the bank. Unable to keep everything bottled up, I released a string of screams and wails into the nighttime air that travelled miles in all directions.
While I continued releasing all my rage and sadness, I couldn’t stop thinking about the unfairness of it all. ‘Why? Why did this have to be me? Have I not suffered enough? Been through enough fucking shit already? Is this punishment for something I did in a past life? What could I have possibly fucking done to deserve this kind of fucked up life?’
Feeling the pit of burning rage within me growing with every thought I had I quickly stood up, turning towards the magnificent oak tree to my right before exploding into a fit of violence. Instantly I released a flurry of punches at the bark of the tree, too blinded by my anger to feel the onset of tears and spasms in my muscles. It was only after what must have been a couple of minutes, when I finally came to a stop and bent over gasping for air from exhaustion, that I looked at the blood-covered knuckles of my hands and felt a sudden rush of pain wash over me. Cries of agony rushed out my throat as I collapsed into a shuddering ball under the evergreen leaves of the oak tree. Yet I greeted such a feeling with sick delight, happy for the welcome distraction it provided me, wanting to keep my mind away from the unavoidable truth of my upcoming death.
After I had laid down curled up in a ball for close to an hour in a catatonic state, no longer able to weep for my tears had run dry, I slowly sat up; making sure to do so carefully with both my blood-torn hands. A freezing wind blew across my skin making me hiss in pain when it came into contact with my fists. I looked up towards the sky once more, the sky now pitch black with only a luminous, crescent-shaped moon hanging above, high up in the midnight sky.
Realising how late it was, I knew I should probably start to head back home before I ended up spending the whole night in the numbing cold, an idea I wasn’t terribly adverse to. Feeling exhausted, both mentally and physically I slowly stood up, needing to use the now blood-stained, but undamaged, tree for support. Once I finally felt stable, stable enough to at least not collapse underneath my own weight, I began to walk home. Doing my best to retrace my steps before finding an area I was more familiar with and knew the way back from.
During the walk, just like after I had left the hospital, I tried desperately to focus on my surroundings in an effort to distract myself. I stared at the large brick houses that showcased just how nice the area I had stumbled upon was, the many different cars which lined the road, anything to keep my mind away from focusing on my true thoughts and feelings. Even the streets themselves which wound up being virtually barren, only passing by a handful of people during the entire walk, each of whom looked at me in shock. Reminding me of how much of a mess I must have looked. In hindsight, I must have looked like a madman with my blood-coated fists.
It didn’t take long before I started to recognise the area I was in and got closer and closer to home. The houses became smaller and dingier and the acidic smell of rot and fumes got thicker and denser, carried along by the blowing wind. And there before me, after only a few more minutes, was home. A place, that despite leaving less than twenty-four hours before, I felt like I hadn’t seen in months.
I quickly shook my head, banishing the misery-induced thoughts that tried to worm themselves in and looked back to my home. In truth, to call it a house was extremely generous. A dilapidated shack would be a fairer assessment. It shakily stood at one storey tall, half covered in a peeling white paint. The other half was covered in the black mould that could be found within. The wooden structure itself was filled with an assortment of chips and cracks, looking as if it would snap in half under its own minuscule weight.
Out front, on the weed-infested driveway sat my dad’s most prized possession, his 1990 Ford F350. A dull red truck that would seem more at home in a junkyard than in front of a home. With its rusted bumper, broken tail lights and worn tyres it amazed me each and every day that he would even be able to get it started, let alone moving.
Seeing that the truck was there and knowing it meant my dad had already come back home, I prayed to god that he had already gone to sleep. With how mentally and physically exhausted I was, I didn't know whether I would be able to come up with a coherent lie about where I had been if he was still awake. Cautiously, I opened the front door as quietly as possible. That was until I heard the creaking of the hinges and the splintering floorboards and realised the futility of such an action.
As I stepped inside I was greeted with the first bit of good news I received all day. An empty living room bathed in darkness and the booming snores of my dad a couple of doors away. Thankful for the small act of mercy and not wanting to tempt fate, I quickly shut the door behind me before all but sprinting on the tips of my toes towards my room. It was only when I was safe inside did I let out a sigh of relief, grabbing my sleepwear as I carelessly chucked my bag beside my bed, my only focus on getting ready for bed before I collapsed on the floor in exhaustion.
After changing clothes and as I was lying on my bed, I realised I hadn’t checked my phone once since I awoke in the hospital, my phone having not been a priority at the time. When I opened my phone I saw I had one unopened message from over six hours ago. Without even looking I knew exactly who it was; though with the amount of contacts I had, it was hardly a difficult guess.
I opened Sam’s message, doing my best to focus on the meandering words through my quickly blurring vision long enough to see what he said. Luckily for me, it was only a short message asking whether I was alright. A message that almost made me burst into raucous laughter at the irony of it, with my situation being worse than anyone could have expected.
Wanting nothing more than to just go to sleep and forget all about today I responded with a simple confirmation saying we would talk more tomorrow. Once sent I all but tossed my phone onto the floor, not caring whether it gained another scratch or two to add to its extensive collection. I climbed underneath my duvet, cherishing the small amount of warmth it provided until, within moments, I was out like a light.
