The boy sat in the bed, his toes scratching against the white, starchy sheets. He was quiet, withdrawn into his mind and numb to pulsing beep of the monitor overhead. His sky blue eyes squinted. Concentrating intently on the rolodex running through in his mind.-flashing bursts of new information that had been thrown at him over the last few days.
After a few moments of hesitation, he lifted his fingers and gingerly touched the short plastic lines dangling from his chest under the green hospital gown. They adjusted slightly to the tactile pressure and he winced as the twinge shot up through his muscle.
Still tender.
With a slow breath, he released the twin lumens and rubbed his palm roughly against his cheek.
This is happening. What the hell am I going to do?
There were things. Things he wanted to do. He had no fucking clue what these things were, or if he had any ACTUAL intention of doing them. But they were out there, and now, just the possibility of making them happen was gone.
Things were going to be different.
They boy lifted his eyes when a soft knock rapped on the door. His last breath hitched in his throat as it opened. A large, round man with silver hair entered. He wore a long, white coat that was half a size too small and flicked through a chart as he walked.
"Good morning, young man!" he boomed, still not looking up from the rustling papers. "I'm Doctor Frank Biggie, and I'm filling in today for Doctor Tan."
The man in the white coat scanned a few more pages before smiling and turning his full attention to the dark-haired boy in the bed.
"And how are you feeling today Mr.-uh..." he scrambled and paged back through the chart. "Mmmiiiissstterrr... Bray...n...k?"
"Branch. It's Branch."
Dr. Biggie smiled warmly.
"How about I just call you Ra-"
"How about you don't." The boy snapped curtly. "Branch is fine."
The doctor nodded. He glanced again at the chart in his hand before tucking it under his fluffy arm.
"I see you have been battling your disease for quite some time now. You were diagnosed with polycistic kidney disease...7 years ago? Is that right? So you have probably known this was coming for a while."
Branch frowned and stared silently at the hideous gray-speckled floor tiles. Dr. Biggie tilted his head and eyed the boy with concern.
"Did Dr. Tan talk to you about what to expect?" he inquired.
Branch said nothing, but met the doctor's eyes and nodded.
"You will be starting your treatments tomorrow. You should know the hemodialysis process is quite stressful on your body, so it's normal to feel exhausted in the hours or even days following. Be sure to arrive at the facility an hour early to fill out paperwork...Oh! And the room is usually quite chilly so remember to bring a blanket and eat before you arrive."
Branch dropped his gaze to his lap, and nodded again.
Dr. Biggie frowned thoughtfully as his experienced eyes analyzed the boy. He clasped his hands together and sighed.
"Things aren't as bad as they seem right now, young man," he encouraged softly. "Try to keep your hopes up, yes?"
Branch still said nothing, but his lips were pulled tight and his jaw tensed.
"I will see you in a week for your appointment but, until then, good luck to you."
The doctor turned and walked back out of the room as quickly as he had entered and the hospital door clicked shut. Branch's shoulders sank and he cast his eyes about his room.
Papers were stacked precariously on the bedside table. There were sheets that outlined "Procedure Risk" and "Patient Rights". There were consent forms and informative hand-outs alerting to "What You Need to Know". Branch glared at the clutter and the heat his face bubbled. With a bolt of energy he struck his foot against the table.
BANG!.
It flew into the wall and papers fluttered through the air until they lay like scattered leaves on the ground. His world looked as gray as those fucking ugly floor tiles.
Kidney failure.
Fuck.
Ya, things were going to be different.