When the Call CamekaylashayJanuary 9 2012, 02:03:30 UTC
The call came at eight in the morning. He'd just gotten home from a light jog and was planning his afternoon that would consist of bill paying, laundry and football. It had all seemed so normal and so unusual that he had been consciously waiting for the ball to drop and the phone to ring to signal a case. But it was a rare off weekend (Director's orders) and that call wasn't wouldn't come. So he thought.
As soon as he heard the first words, he was outside and in his car. He only hesitated for a moment when he thought of what the speaker on the other end was saying, what had happened. But he pushed those thoughts from his mind and sped in the direction the call had come from.
"Be alright. You gotta be alright," he mumbled out loud once the phone was disconnected.
Some strange form of autopilot had taken residence in his mind and body and he was pulling into the hospital's parking lot. He rushed through the doors, wanting to shout at anyone to take him to where he needed to be, to make everything alright.
Several nurses pointed him the right directions through the twisting, white hallways and he slowed up as he reached the critical care unit.
He tried to focus on the words the duty nurse was telling him, but his mind was reeling. Things like fractured vertebrae and punctured lung did not sound right in his head. Nothing sounded right.
He was told he had five minutes and he wanted to make those five minutes count. However, the first four and half were spent just staring at all the tubes and wires connected to the other man's body. The man that was barely recognizable under all the bruising and swelling.
Then everything snapped back to reality and he surged forward to gently take the only free hand within his own. He also reached up to lightly stroke the single tear that leaked from closed eyes.
"You know you can't die, right? You told me I couldn't once and now I'm telling -no- ordering you. You. Can't. Die. And no matter what these doctors say is gonna happen, I'm here. Got it, Boss?"
As soon as he heard the first words, he was outside and in his car. He only hesitated for a moment when he thought of what the speaker on the other end was saying, what had happened. But he pushed those thoughts from his mind and sped in the direction the call had come from.
"Be alright. You gotta be alright," he mumbled out loud once the phone was disconnected.
Some strange form of autopilot had taken residence in his mind and body and he was pulling into the hospital's parking lot. He rushed through the doors, wanting to shout at anyone to take him to where he needed to be, to make everything alright.
Several nurses pointed him the right directions through the twisting, white hallways and he slowed up as he reached the critical care unit.
He tried to focus on the words the duty nurse was telling him, but his mind was reeling. Things like fractured vertebrae and punctured lung did not sound right in his head. Nothing sounded right.
He was told he had five minutes and he wanted to make those five minutes count. However, the first four and half were spent just staring at all the tubes and wires connected to the other man's body. The man that was barely recognizable under all the bruising and swelling.
Then everything snapped back to reality and he surged forward to gently take the only free hand within his own. He also reached up to lightly stroke the single tear that leaked from closed eyes.
"You know you can't die, right? You told me I couldn't once and now I'm telling -no- ordering you. You. Can't. Die. And no matter what these doctors say is gonna happen, I'm here. Got it, Boss?"
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I almost went lighthearted and had them crashing remote control planes/cars or doing bumper cars... :)
Maybe you can prompt me in Feb. for the followup? :)
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(And really, I kinda like the idea of filling the prompt with crashing remote control planes *g* but this was just wonderfully heart-wrenching!)
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