I woke up in the hospital again, it's still disconcerting. The last thing I remember was standing with my folks in Observatory Park. We were gathering with lots of others to watch the solar eclipse and the park was relatively packed. It was an event hosted by the University, where teachers were handing out pinhole projectors to allow us to see the eclipse without having to look directly at it. While they were doing that, an announcer was teaching us about the Sun and Moon and how our solar system works. It was fun and I was looking forward to it even so early in the morning. Anyway, as the eclipse started to happen I felt an attack coming on. Usually it’s just a dizziness and if I’m not careful I’ll fall, so I reached out and grabbed my Mom’s arm and she'd know what to do. But this time it was different, the dizziness came like usual, but then pressure like something was trying to hatch out of the back of my skull. I tried to warn Mom, but I don’t remember if I said anything intelligible, or if I screamed, or if I just opened my mouth and nothing came out. The pressure was like nothing I’d ever felt before, and I do remember reaching up to touch the back of my head. The last thing I remember was looking at my hand and feeling surprised that there wasn't any blood. After that I blacked out and can’t remember anything between then and when I woke up here in the hospital.
I’ve been awake most of the day, but I can’t seem to regain my balance. It's like I'm stuck in a permanent dizzy spell. I can’t even seem able to walk with crutches. First time I tried to get out of bed I fell forward into Dad’s arms. Not to be deterred, I tried a second time when no one was around thinking it might be less embarrassing if I fell. Turns out its more embarrassing to be found on the floor with a busted nose. Dr. Laurie has insisted I stay here for the next week so they can monitor me and get some new tests done. He says if I get better I can leave sooner, but he wants me to stay long enough for an MRI. I hate being in that noisy thing.
Mom says I was out for two nights before I woke up this morning. I don’t think I’ve ever been out that long before, it’s kinda scary. I don’t even remember dreaming. It’s like I was at the observatory with my parents, looking at my hand and in such incredible pain, and then I was opening my eyes in here and looking at the ceiling pain free. My little death is not going to make things easy for me. I wonder when I’ll start hallucinating like the doctors say I might.
I wasn’t the only one to have a bad day though, and I suppose I should feel lucky. Hours after I blacked out there was a plane crash outside of the city. Dad’s been watching the news reports and investigators still don’t know what happened. Some flight bound for Hawaii, survivors report a flash of light before the plane started plummeting. It hadn’t gotten up to altitude yet, which was fortunate, but there were still some deaths and lots of injured. Many were brought here and even in my room I can tell, it seems there’s always someone running past.
I don’t know if it’s my tumor or what, but something feels different and I don’t know how to express what or why. The only thing I'm sure of is that this new feeling is scary.
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