**********THE ACCIDENT************
With his father driving and his mother in the front with him, Cora and I sat in the back seat of my dad's Toyota Land Cruiser. Oblivious to what my parents were discussing, I looked at the trees, while Cora watched cartoons on my mother's cellphone.
As the discussion became heated, with my dad gripping the steering wheel, suddenly, a loud, deafening sound was heard. Before I knew it, we were hit by a huge truck, sending us off the road and into the bottom of a ravine.
After spending a couple of days in the sterile confines of the hospital room, I finally regained consciousness, only to be greeted by a relentless splitting headache. The room was bathed in the pale, sterile light of the hospital, and the beeping of machines echoed in the background.
As time crawled by, the doctor made his rounds, a beacon of hope in his white coat. He inquired about the state of my body, meticulously examining every detail of my recovery. After a series of prodding and my blood being drawn, he finally stood up, a grave expression masking his face.
Unable to contain my anxiety, summoned the strength to ask, "Doctor, where are my dad, mom, and my sister Cora?"
The doctor's eyes met mine, and a heavy silence hung in the air before he spoke softly, "I'm truly sorry to tell you this, but your parents couldn't make it, and your sister Cora is in the ICU. It appears a sharp piece of metal pierced through her chest."
I felt a lump form in my throat as tears welled up in my eyes. My voice trembled as I asked, "What do you mean, doctor?" With a heart filled with dread, I waited for his response.
With a deep sigh and a mournful look in his eyes, the doctor replied, "She is in a coma, and at this moment, we cannot predict if or when she will wake up. We are doing everything we can to help her recover, but it will take a miracle."
Overwhelmed by an indescribable sense of despair, I felt as though the entire world had collapsed around me. Tears flowed unrestrained down my cheeks, forming a pool of anguish on my hospital pillow. My voice cracked and quivered as I implored the doctor, my eyes pleading for reassurance, "Please, Doctor, tell me what happened to my parents.
Assure me that they're okay, and that Cora is safe. You can't be serious; please, Doctor, I need to know about my parents."
The sterile hospital room seemed to close in on me, its cold, white walls echoing my heartache.
I clung desperately to the faintest glimmer of hope, praying that this was all a terrible mix-up, and that my family would miraculously reassemble, unharmed. Yet, the doctor's expression remained unbearably somber, shrouding my plea with an unsettling uncertainty that gnawed at my soul.
The screeching of the brakes abruptly pulled Carl from his reverie.
The driver's voice resounded loudly, "We've arrived, sir, and the total is 5 credits and 6 pens." Lost in his thoughts, Carl initially didn't register what the driver had said until the driver repeated, "That will be 5 credits and 6 pens, sir!"
Shaking off his daydream, Carl swiftly reached into his pocket and handed the driver 6 credits. "Thank you, sir," the driver acknowledged. "Here's your change sir," the driver added, handing Carl 4 pens. Carl responded with a gracious nod, "You can keep the change," and proceeded to enter the hospital.
As Carl stepped into the hospital, he was immediately enveloped in the sharp scent of ethanol and the lingering aroma of other medical chemicals used throughout the facility.
It was an olfactory reminder of the clinical environment he had become all too familiar with. Determined, he made his way toward the reception desk, where a nurse sat diligently. Clearing his throat, he softly spoke, "Hi, I would like to see my sister in room 111B," his voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and eagerness.
Carl's words had the effect of pulling the nurse from her own daydream, and her eyes focused on him.
She recognized him and greeted warmly, "Hey, Carl, it's you." His heart felt a glimmer of hope. "Is my sister awake yet?" he inquired, his voice filled with anticipation.
The nurse's expression softened with empathy for Carl. She gently replied, "No, I'm sorry, she's not awake at the moment. But her health has improved, and we expect her to wake up soon," she reassured him with a kind smile, understanding the weight of Carl's worry and longing for his sister's recovery.
As Carl was on the verge of departing for his sister's room, the nurse stopped him with a gentle, "Oh, the doctor wanted to see you in case you came by."
"Thank you," Carl replied with gratitude. "I'll be sure to see him before I leave."
Walking down the bustling hospital corridor, Carl couldn't help but observe the poignant scenes around him. He witnessed medical staff rushing various patients into the hospital, each with a unique set of injuries, ranging from gunshot wounds to accident-related trauma. It was a stark reminder of the diversity of circumstances that brought people to this place of healing.
Finally, he reached the entrance of his sister's room, and as he got closer, the rhythmic beeping of the medical machines became more pronounced, a constant reminder of the delicate balance between life and the unknown that permeated the hospital environment.