Standing Out

They didn’t need to tell me. I already knew.

It was May 7 and at this point, it was keeping track of details like this that kept me busy. Cindy and Sara stopped visiting because they were forbidden. I was in a sort of quarantine, you see. The doctors didn’t know what was wrong with me, so they didn’t let anyone near me so that those conscious people in my life wouldn’t become a grotesque creature as well.

They had my right arm hooked up to an intravenous drip feed to deliver fluid and other nutrients, so I eventually became ambidextrous since I didn’t want to be immobile. My eye was as inflamed as ever and so was my mood. I was getting sick of the conciliatory phrases such as, “You’ll be fixed up in no time” or the occasional “You’re fine, don’t worry.”

I didn’t need to hear these words because their actions spoke much louder. I already knew that I was going to die and sugarcoating it didn’t make me feel any better.

On May 12, just as my fever was gradually receding, Dr. Perry rushed into my room with some “important news.” I felt skeptical as these little “broadcasts” have only so far succeeded in aggravating the situation, but naturally, I was inclined to listen.

“Mya,” He breathed heavily.

Well, get on with it.

“You have periorbital cellulitis.”

I just blinked. I did not appreciate his articulate terminology.

“My team realized that you had sinusitis to begin with and we think that, as a result, this infection was spread to your eyelid where it proceeded to swell. We also came to the conclusion that your incessant hair pulling certainly wasn’t helping the situation.”

“So I’ll be okay, right?” I shook not only with the fear of the answer that was about to be offered, but also with the dire drops in body temperature that I was currently experiencing.

“Well, we’ll see. I will certainly pray for you, Mya.” That answer was not sufficient as I could easily read between the lines. Straining my ears, I could easily decipher the words that Dr. Perry uttered to relay this information to Mama and Papa.

“The circumstances are very dire, I’m afraid. The infection was caught very late and the concern is that it could reach her brain and well, you know what I mean.”

As horrified as I was, I was also very angry at his insensitivity and frankness. It wasn’t very difficult to hear Mama break down hysterically into a series of agonized wails.

I couldn’t help but be disgusted at human nature. I was lied to this entire time with condolences that claimed that these medical “professionals” actually knew what they were doing. It took them over a week to determine how to handle my situation and during that time my fate seemed imminent. When they finally diagnosed me, I was offered an obscure answer to a question regarding my livelihood. Thinking that I couldn’t hear, they addressed this question with utter bluntness to my parents. It was truly unbearable to realize that in order to understand what someone is truly saying, you have to pay attention to more than just words.