Page 40 of On the Bright Side
“No, I—” Closing my eyes again, I start to wonder how to explain this to Ellie. “I had plans today.”
She must’ve texted me. I’m sure she did. Why does she think I haven’t shown up? Ellie has no way to know where I am. At least we were going to meet at her house, so she wasn’t alone at the museum waiting for me. But it was for her extra-credit assignment. Did she end up having to go without me?
There’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” my dad answers.
The nurse wheels the IV bag into the room and positions it beside me. “Which arm?” she asks.
“Uh.” I’ve never had one of these before, though I did donate at Amber High’s blood drive last spring. I hold out my right arm since she’s already on that side anyway.
The nurse puts on a pair of gloves and then ties a tourniquet around my biceps. She taps the inside of my elbow a few times, sizing up my vein, before reaching for the needle. I look away and take a deep breath, trying my best to ignore the pinch. Once finished with the insertion needle, she tapes the plastic tube into place.
The fluids start working immediately. Finally, there’s enough saliva back in my mouth that I can lick my dry lips.
“That feels much better,” I say, propping myself up a little bit with my other arm.
“Yeah, you must’ve been really dehydrated,” the nurse says.
“How long does this take?”
“About forty-five minutes or so.”
There’s no way I’ll still be able to meet up with Ellie today, but I want to be able to text her. She’s probably spiraling about why I’m not responding.
“Can I get you a blanket or anything?” she asks.
“No, that’s fine. Thanks, though.” Except I regret that as soon as I say it, because I am cold.
“All right, I’ll be back to check on you in a few.”
My parents are slumped in the two chairs along the wall. I’ve been in and out of it all morning, so I don’t really have a grasp on how long it’s been, but they’ve been sitting there for a while. Plus however long we were in the waiting room.
“What time is it?” I ask.
My dad checks his watch. “Almost two.”
“Seriously?” There’s no way it’s been that long, but my stomach does rumble. “Two o’clock?”
“I’ll make something to eat when we get home,” my mom says, not looking up from whatever she’s googling on her phone. “It says to avoid caffeine. And junk foods, but we would’ve figured that muchalready,” she says, sharing a look with my dad. They’ve already been on a healthy-eating kick for a while, but something like this could make them take it to further extremes.
“At least they’re going to help you fix this with just exercise,” my mom says approvingly. “We don’t need unnecessary antibiotics or anything like that. I mean, we had to vaccinate you for school, but I’ve always wondered if that was the right move.”
Dad nods in agreement to appease my mom. I roll my eyes. They sometimes doubt medicine, and yet they rush me to Urgent Care. Make it make sense.
Is it time to go yet?
I need to text Ellie. And these forty-five minutes, alert and alone in a room with my parents, are turning into agony without having my phone as a distraction.
Eventually, the nurse comes back with papers that she hands my parents. She removes the IV, placing a cotton ball beneath gauze wrapped around my arm. “The doctor also called in a prescription to your pharmacy for some anti-nausea and anti-dizziness meds.”
On our way out of the room, I glance back at the wheelchair they used to roll me in. I never thought I’d need to use one of those. But I couldn’t walk straight. Or keep my head up. Wow, I was a disaster this morning.
Yet now, after the replenishment from that IV, I almost feel like nothing ever happened.
The drive back home is short, which is surprising, because on the way to Urgent Care, it felt like a million years. I go to my room, fearful a mess of vomit is waiting for me there, but everything is spotless. My parents must’ve called the cleaners even though it’s not Monday or Thursday. The bed is even made with fresh sheets.
I brace myself to read the texts, more nervous to see Ellie’s messages than I was about a needle piercing my skin earlier. The first, at 9:15.
ELLIE:
