When I'm finally back in my room my legs were aching due of my minimal effort in walking to the reception area. How sad. Guess I'll have to work out more often. What distracts me from the aching is the fact that season 1 of Star Kids had ended by the time I got back up to my room. Instead the channel is now broadcasting some type of color show meant for toddlers. I pout internally at how much of the Star Kids season I missed and resolve to watch a re-run later. Because watching the children's channel is out of the question, I turn to the Psychology channel I was watching before when Dr. Alder spontaneously burst into my room. Much like Star Kids, It gets good for me about 10 minutes in. I like hearing about the different mental disorders that exist. Watching Tv isn't only for entertainment, I'm actually learning! It turns out amnesia (even though it mostly occurs because of medical issues) can be caused by psychological trauma. I know it's not good to stress over it, but maybe my amnesia could be cured if I know what the hell caused it in the first place. Enough stressing over my disease. Is amnesia a disease or a disorder? Using what little tact I have, I'll call it a condition for now instead. Speaking of, where are those documents I had asked for? Because there's no clock in the room I have no idea how long I've waited, however, judging from the 40 minute long disorder documentary that just ended and my internal clock, I can say it's been quite awhile. I've taken up exploring my hospital room as my new form of entertainment that's how bored I am. Besides the Tv and the bed, there is a nightstand, a couple cabinets, and a small desk with a chair. To the nightstand first! The nightstand has a lamp, a pen and a pad of paper on its top. On the lower level of the night stand, there are a couple magazines and some fairytale books. What, was this room supposed to be for some kid? Speaking of my mental age, I don't think I have the right to complain. Moving on from the nightstand I rummaged through the first cabinets to find a mop and a cleaning bucket. "Maybe I can pass the time by mopping the floors" I mutter sarcastically. Looking in the second I find a spare hospital gown (good to know) and some disposable face masks. Useful? Yes. Disappointing? Yes. Moving over to the plastic desk, the top is barren, save for another lamp. Severely disappointed at my mini expedition inside my room, I open the desk's only drawer to find a small manual on how to operate the bed's settings. That could be fun. Besides the manual, there was a small business card with the name of the hospital founders on it. One name stood out to me. Daniel Huntington. It sounded familiar. Not just as one of the hospital founders. The name Huntington was a name I knew. Huntington... the memory slips away as I desperately try and bring it back. I had just remembered something useful, and now I forgot. Way to go me. I sigh out loud sulking. The search that was meant to bring my mood up instantly brought it back down. After picking up the business card, I close the drawer and roll the IV drip towards the window. I've decided that window watching will be my new hobby for this afternoon. Gently sitting down on the cushioned bench underneath the window, I bring my knees up and wrap my right arm around my legs, bringing them to my chest. Putting my left arm on the windowsill, I rest my head comfortably in my hand. Blankly observing the courtyard in the setting sun is actually kind of peaceful, and I find myself nodding off to sleep. Before I can fully fall asleep however, I hear a familiar voice. "You wanted your medical records?"
-Nurse Tracey P.O.V.-
When I finish my shift, I walk down to the reception counter to see how they are doing. "Oh hey Tracey" calls Reisha, a new receptionist at the hospital. "Would you mind doing us a favor?" She asks. "Of course not" I say. "Great! Marcel here doesn't want to give these papers to a patient. Can you run them up to the patient's room?" Reisha beams at me. "Sure no problem" I respond. " I just want to know why Marcel is being so lazy" I shoot him a glare. "Hey I'm not being lazy! That dude just freaks me out, I don't wanna have to talk to him again." Marcel holds his hands up. "Marcel that's rude! You can't say that about patients" Reisha frowns, clearly upset. "Did you see the way he just stared at me while I was setting up the document archive? He was just coldly glaring at me for like a whole minute, besides, who asks for their medical records" He says in self-defense. While he's talking I reach out and take the papers from Reisha. Reading the name on the document raise my eyebrows. "Finley Morrigan? He had silver hair and grey eyes right?" I question. "Yeah. You know him?" Marcel asks in doubt. "Yes. He was a patient I met with at the start of my shift. He has amnesia" I say quietly, not sure how much I should divulge. Marcel looks shocked. He goes silent for a minute. "I just called an amnesiac a freak. Jesus, I'm an asshole aren't I?" He chuckles. "You've just had a rough day, it won't happen again." Says Reisha, fully forgiving him. "I'll take these papers up to him. Have a nice night" I say smiling. As I walk away, I think to myself how opposites attract. Time to give that poor kid his papers.