PAST
JOURNAL ENTRY NO. 01
DECEMBER 23, 1945
Today, I woke up from the longest sleep I have ever had in my life. Snapped out of coma, everyone else would say. I did not know it was possible to feel tired right after just waking up, but I did. It was new to me and I could not feel my legs—I was afraid I do not have them anymore but, luckily, they are both intact and are still attached to me. I'm still alive, complete and whole except for the holes in my body.
Today, I decided to start this journal out of my fear that I would not have anything to use to keep my sanity with me. The psychiatrist that handles me agrees a lot with my idea.
Today, I finally met him...
••••••••••
"We're done cleaning him, doc. His bruises are almost healed now except for the big ones he has on his torso."
"Also, doc, can we give him a haircut? His hair has gotten much longer since he was admitted here."
"His vitas are stable and his wounds are healing better. No more signs of underlying threats and now all that's left to do is pray that he wakes up. Alert me immediately when there is an emergency."
"He's really a looker!"
I don't understand what I'm hearing anymore but I do know that they don't connect with each other. I don't also know how many hours I have been conscious now but the thing is, I can't really open my eyes nor move a single inch. But I'm awake now—I just really have to open my eyes.
"Call Doctor Chester! Sir Vincent is awake now!"
Chaos comes next the moment I did finally have the ability and energy to open my eyes. Chaos in such that there are just too many people in white in this already white room and they are all frantic. Maybe they were all waiting for me wake up.
My vision is still blurry but I know that these people are all familiar somehow and perhaps I've seen them before. I can barely hear what these people are all saying, but I can concentrate myself on the beeping and slow humming of the machines around me. I tried lifting my hand but to no avail, I just noticed that I am connected to too many wire-like tubes.
I didn't know you can be tired right after waking up from your sleep, and my whole body feels numb.
A man, who I guess is Dr. Chester, rushes to me the moment he enters the room. His voice is familiar, I noticed. He calms down first and introduces himself—I am right, he is Dr. Chester—before performing some physical tests on me. I really find annoying that they have to put a flashlight in your eyes like it wouldn't hurt.
He announces that I'm finally awake as if it isn't the most obvious thing in the world and the nurses with him cheers for me.
But seriously, I can't even see their faces clear yet and I feel like I'm on high. Like everything is floating and I don't even understand what I'm saying in mind anymore.
I'm really tired.
So, I slept again.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Good noon, Mr. Vincent. How are you feeling?"
I smiled to the nurse, I'm afraid don't remember her name. "Better again, ma'am. Thank you."
After the sleep that I took just when I woke up, I felt so much better and so much sober. I no longer feel high or drunk and I'm sure I very well understand everything that's happening, I know it all makes sense too.
They also removed me from the monitoring tubes connected to me and assisted me for bathing and getting on the toilet.
What's funny is that I'm having too many "firsts" today. First meal, first walk, first conversation...
Dr. Chester Oscar is my attending physician and this is the very first official moment that we met. He is very kind to say the least and he is very good at explaining all the things that I have to know. But everything is with a lot of caution, he said. I maybe stable physically but it doesn't entirely equal to my state of mind and I understand him.
Every soldier is damaged every after war.
He told me that I was almost dead when I was brought in here to the hospital. I lost a lot of blood and if it isn't for the miracle that my heart continues to beat after the gunshots that I received; they wouldn't have taken me at all. I have two gunshots in the chest, one in my shoulder end, and a gunshot graze on my side. Aside from that, he carefully told me about how I looked like I was badly beaten. He was careful not to trigger bad memories that can cause panic attacks. I appreciate how careful he was at also telling me how most of the badly beaten soldiers they had to take in are soldiers that escaped from torture camps.
I was also constantly checking myself if I do feel something rising in me, like anger or anything similar. Nothing as of the moment and I hope I remain like this. I don't recall much from the beatings that I could have received. The only thing I remembered was blacking out completely after receiving the bullets in my chest.
I had to be transferred to a psychiatrist after that for my further check-up. Dr. Louanne Silvestre, or she said I should just call her Dr. Lou, is my doctor for this matter. She said I am showing her good results from her initial check-up and she was also the one who explained to me the other details. Of course, after offering and checking if I need to rest first.
But I'm done resting and I told her that.
Today is the twenty-third of December, marking my seventh month in here at the hospital. I've been in comatose all that time. It's still sinking into me that almost everyone in here knows me for that long that they had to take care of me, and here I am barely meeting all of them for the first time.
The war has finally and officially ended in September and slowly but surely, the country is doing its best to rise again. That's the best news I received.
I thought I was stable—mentally stable—and I was hoping I was but I am apparently and expectedly not. I almost saw life and death again when it finally sunk into me that I may be alive but my comrades...
"Here it the pen and paper you've asked for, Sir Vincent."
I almost forgot about the nurse with me because I was so lost in my thoughts. I didn't even know that I spaced out. I also almost forgot that I collapsed again when I had my break down though I feel at peace now maybe from the meds that they had to inject me with.
"Thank you again, ma'am."
The nurse blushes and sweetly excused herself, informing me that Dr. Chester will be here later.
The pen and paper are for my plan regarding my mental state. Writing has always helped me keeping my sanity and I know it will not fail me this time. Though my main problem will be hands. I don't know if I can hold a pen properly let alone write now with my current state.
Dr. Chester came, checking me up for the nth time today. I can even feel his relief whenever I result positively normal with his tests. Aside from the mental break down that I had, which was totally normal and expected he reminded, he mentioned that it is a miracle for my overall less than twenty-four-hour recovery. He said that I am literally just like a person who just woke up from a long sleep.
"We can try your legs tomorrow but there's no rushing you, Sir Vincent, but I know you would get tired of using that almost as immediately. It's also a good exercise to wake up your muscles." He pointed out my wheel chair that I've been using with the help of the nurses who takes turn upon assisting me. "Like I said, your results are too incredible but we still have to be at our most careful."
He continues to explain my wounds and other bruises. For the gunshot holes that I have, all of them are healing well but will cause me to stay in here for at least a month more, if things don't go back to any worse. He's assured that I wouldn't be able to do anything that could harm myself as long as I am in here. The bruises left in me are bone bruises along my ribcage, the doctor explained, and that's why it takes too long for them to fade completely. They are mostly yellowish and healed now.
I have also seen my whole self in the mirror. I don't know if I should be thankful that I didn't get to see myself on my worst or not. It's like I don't deserve this kind of time-skipping. Aside from my wounds and bruises that are all bandaged, nothing has changed much except that I lost a lot of weight and my hair is at shoulder length now.
I really am still alive.
"You also have a visitor but, of course, it's up to you if you can meet him now." Dr. Chester added. "I can just tell him that—"
"Visitor?" That sounded too impossible in my own ears.
My doctor smiles and pats my unwounded shoulder. "The person who saved you, Mr. Vincent."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Even though how much I try to recall, I can't really remember what happened after I was shot in the chest. I feel ashamed not remembering the person who helped me. But I'm meeting him now and like what my nurse had told me, the important thing now is I can finally thank him.
"How do I look?" I jokingly asked.
She laughs and even gives me a thumbs up. "You're really good-looking, sir! Now, off we go!"
Is it normal for me to feel nervous? I can't remember the last time I felt like this but I know I am nervous. How can I even repay that person properly for saving my life?
I really don't know what I was expecting for the person who helped me to look like—but I certainly did not expect him to be a young man.
Why is my heart suddenly beating hard against my chest?
"Good evening, Nurse L! It's nice to see you again!"
When the young man finally looks at us, he smiles and I know that smile could light the whole room. He is a beautiful man... I had to swallow my thoughts. I'm being shameful!
"Hello, Nurse Tulip!" He walks towards and gives me a nod before offering his hand. "Hello to you too, Sir Vincent. I'm L, nice to finally meet you."
Why do I feel like my face is heating up? I cleared my throat and accepted his hand. "I-It's my pleasure meeting you, Nurse L. Thank you for saving my life."
He beams and I swear his eyes can smile on their own.
We went back to his table here in the cafeteria and Nurse Tulip was kind enough to give us some privacy. I really don't know what to say. My gratefulness for being alive right now because of this man beside me is too overwhelming. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be here at all.
"I'm really glad to finally see you like this, Sir Vincent. How are you feeling?"
Is it possible to think that he looks like an angel? What am I even thinking now?! "I'm good, at least I feel like it." I try to return his gaze but I really can't. I don't know why I'm feeling something now that I haven't experienced before. I'm way too nervous. "I... I really want to repay for helping me."
He chuckles and shakes his head. "No need for any grand payment except for one."
"Of course."
"Can I know your first name?"
I don't know but I laughed at his request. "I'm sorry. I just didn't expect that that's what you would ask."
He smiles shyly and I swear... he really looks like... No! No more inappropriate thoughts! How can I even have this kind of thoughts?!
"Vincent is your last name, isn't it? For the months I've waited to finally meet you, it's your first name that I really wanted to know since then. It's an odd request but—"
"Yuan."
He beams again. "Yuan." He laughs. "Knowing it makes me feel all star-struck."
We talked more, almost everything about him and what he does. I enjoyed talking to him and for the first time today, I really know I am alive.
"Is it okay for me to visit again, Sir Vincent?"
I smile to that. "Of course. If it's okay with you."
"I'll see you tomorrow then!"
"Tomorrow it is then."