I want to ask him what he means, where I am, what’s going on – but instead renewed panic takes over. I push hard against whatever is restraining me, and I feel myself falling forward. An electric jolt shoots up my knees and hands as they meet the ground. I know I should feel pain from the fall, but I’m somehow disconnected from my senses. Still unable to breathe, I cough, then vomit. Whatever remaining liquid inside of me comes streaming out of my mouth and nose. Just as I take my first real breath of air, hands grasp me under my arms. I’m roughly lifted from the ground and tossed onto what must be a stretcher.
“We need to get her into the shower room now! Her body temperature is still too low!” the deep voice yells, and I feel myself roughly carted away.
Ah, that’s it: I’m still dreaming. I must have fallen asleep watching some kind of hospital drama – that always causes vivid medical dreams for me.
Hey, aren’t they supposed to yell ‘stat!’ instead of ‘now’?
Despite just being out of the liquid – water? – I am plunged into another tubful; only this one is hot. Really hot. So hot it hurts. Now I know this is no mere dream, and I begin to writhe in pain. “You’re burning me!” I try to scream, but it comes out as a hoarse, choked whisper.
“It only feels that way because you’re so cold. Try to relax and it will even out in a minute,” the voice reassures me.
As he’s speaking, I realize the pain is subsiding already, but now I’m starting to shake all over, uncontrollably. It feels like the shaking will never end, but eventually it starts to subside, and I slowly regain my normal senses. I feel pain throbbing in my hands and knees, and there’s an ache in my chest. As I take inventory of myself, I realize I’m not clenching my eyes shut anymore, but I still can’t see. I reach up and feel something holding my eyelids closed.
“Oh, sorry; hold still a moment.” I feel something peeled away from each eyelid.
Slowly I blink, my eyes open, and I feel the stabbing pain of light. For a few moments everything is washed out, too saturated to take in – then they adjust, and I take in the bizarre scene.
I’m in a bath of green-tinted water, surrounded by a trio of kids no older than myself, two of which are wearing lab coats. The lab coat of the kid closest to me is covered in slimy, thick green goo.
“You weren’t supposed to wake up so soon,” the voice that has been reassuring me says, and I see it belongs to the kid in the goo-covered coat. “For a moment I was worried we might lose you.” There’s a look of relief plastered on his face. “How are you feeling?” he asks, trying to hide the shakiness creeping into his voice.
But I’m not feeling kind. I had been frightened and confused, but now I’m angry. “I feel like someone just tried to drown me in ice water and then tried to burn me in boiling water. How the heck do you think I feel?” My voice is still a scratchy whisper, but the angry glare I shoot causes everyone to glance away as if ashamed. “Just what the heck happened, and where the heck am I?” I demand.
“Don’t you remember going into cryogenic sleep?” the other lab coat asks, sounding like she’s concerned for my sanity.
She looks familiar to me. Slowly, I remember where I know her from. The memory of stepping into the cryogenic chamber returns to me, and I realize where I am. “Yeah, I remember. It’s just disorienting waking up like this. You’re Emily.” I hope she can hear the snarl in my voice.
“Actually it’s Dr. Emily now,” she responds. Her voice is too cheerful and slightly haughty.
“Huh?” I scowl; I couldn’t have heard her right. She’s no older than me and, from what I remember of her, still acts like a stereotypical cheerleader, minus the pom-poms and uniform. She reminds me of Jenna. Of course, that would be my luck: the shallow, flaky air-head that thinks she’s better than everyone else becomes a doctor, and I end up scrubbing her bathroom clean.
“That’s understandable,” the goo-covered guy says. Then he shoots Emily a warning glare that I assume means ‘
Be nice
.’ “I can only imagine the shock it must have been waking up so soon in the process.” He’s clearly trying to be sympathetic.
But I’m still too upset to care. Narrowing my eyes at the group, I say, “Didn’t someone have a backup plan in case something like this happens, Mr. … Dr. … What’s your name, anyway?” The anger is now evident in my slowly returning voice.
“Oh, it’s Dr. Lambert – Chad Lambert. We have the warm baths prepared in case of an equipment malfunction, but in your case, there was no malfunction. You just woke up. So, no, there isn’t a plan for your scenario, because it has never happened before. It’s not supposed to be able to happen.” The look on his face is pitiful; he looks honestly distraught. My anger wanes a bit, partially from sympathy, and partially because I just don’t have the energy to maintain it. “Actually, we’d like to figure out just what’s different about you so we can stop it from happening to anyone else. Is there anything you can think of that might not be on your medical chart?” Dr. Lambert looks overeager for answers, but then seems to realize the impertinence of his zealousness. The eagerness disappears; his eyes soften. “You don’t need to answer now. When you feel up to it, if you think of anything, just let us know.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m allergic to
ketamine
, but that should be on my chart.” I notice a bemused glint in his eyes, and I realize that I’m making my pursed-lip-thinking-face as I try to remember anything they might not know. “Actually, I don’t really respond well to anesthetics in general. I had my wisdom teeth taken out early. My mom told me that I cried hysterically afterward when they told me not to talk but didn’t have a pad and paper for me to write on – I don’t really remember that part of it. The nurse reassured my mom that it happened sometimes, but even the nurse looked a bit freaked out by my behavior. When I was back to my normal self, she kept eyeing me like she thought my head was going to start spinning around or something.”
“I’m sorry; I shouldn’t laugh, but—” Dr. Lambert covers his mouth and tries to regain his composure. “Actually, that could be very helpful. I’ll have one of the nurses compare the charts and see if there’s anyone else with sensitivities to anesthetics. Is there anything else, anything at all?” He patiently waits for my response.
I shake my head no and manage to splash water out of the tub in the process. I consider standing and getting out of the tub, but my muscles feel too shaky. I look down at myself and realize that I am completely naked. The green cloud of the water hides my body, but I know I must have been carried here naked. I flush red with embarrassment, and wrap my arms around myself.
“
Here.
” I look up and see Dr. Lambert is holding a robe. “When you feel up to walking, Nurse Mary will take care of you. A hot shower can do wonders for how you’re feeling right now.” I glance in the direction he is pointing and notice Mary smiling back. Then I look back toward Dr. Lambert. He has a nice, reassuring smile that goes all the way to his eyes. While he’s no older than me, I don’t find that fact as disturbing with him as I do with Emily. Maybe it’s less the age, more the
whom
that unsettles me.
I nod my head and he places the robe next to the tub, leaving me with Mary. As soon as he thinks he’s out of earshot, I hear him chastise Emily. “You froze.” It’s clearly not intended as a question.
“No I didn’t,” Emily’s snaps back defensively.
“If I didn’t happen by and help, the extra time you took to figure things out could have landed her in a grave,” he growls at her. “You have the knowledge, but without action it’s useless. Medicine isn’t always an exact science, and in this case, trying something is better than doing nothing at all.”
“I was about to take care of the situation when you butted in,” Emily huffs. Dr. Lambert says something back, but they’ve actually passed out of earshot now, and I can’t make out the words.
I still have my arms wrapped protectively around myself when I feel Mary put her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry; no one else saw you. Dr. Lambert and I wouldn’t say anything, and Emily would have to admit she choked to say a word.” Mary gives me a wry smile.
“Uh huh,” I nod.
I still feel a bit disoriented as I slowly stand and wrap myself in the robe. I realize my muscles are shaking from the effort. I guess it should be expected; it has been a long, long time since I’ve used any of them. Mary notices and gives me her arm to lean on. When we reach the showers, Mary instructs me to get in, and to take as long as I need. She’ll have the towels and my clothes waiting for me when I get out. We’ll worry about everything else once I am dressed.
The hot water does feel fantastic against my shaky, sore muscles. My legs still feel wobbly, so I lean against the shower wall and just let the water cascade over me. It certainly hasn’t been the new start I hoped for, but things have to get better now. They certainly can’t get worse, right?
I feel excitement, anticipation and dread set in all at once. I still don’t know what my job assignment is; maybe things
could
get worse.
With my stomach tied in anxious knots, I quickly end the shower, and hurriedly dress.
As promised, Mary has laid out towels and clothes for me. The movement of getting dressed clearly emphasizes how sore my muscles are. I’ve had achy muscles before, but nothing like this, and I doubt that I’ll feel like myself anytime soon. I look down, notice the beginning of bruises on both of my knees, and groan.
The clothes Mary left are comfortable enough, but they certainly resemble a uniform. At least the pants are black – my preferred basic clothing color. The top is long-sleeved, dark purple and black, and made of the same comfy, stretchy material as the pants. Thinking back, I remember what Mary, Emily and Dr. Lambert had been wearing. All their clothes were black with hunter green. The only difference was that Emily and Dr. Lambert had on white lab coats, too.
Yup; undoubtedly a uniform. It’s practical, but so much for individual style. Oh well. It could be worse. At least I’m not stuck with anything too girly, like fuchsia or pink.
Mary had thoughtfully left me a brush, blow-dryer and some hair elastics. Opting for ease, I slick my wet hair back in a ponytail, and head out the door to find Mary waiting.
“So would you like to know what your job assignment is, or do you want to guess?” Mary raises an eyebrow at me – as if she even had to ask.
“Just tell me that I’m not a trash collector,” I mumble back.
Mary laughs, apparently not taking me seriously. “Well you can breathe a sigh of relief; you’re a biologist. It’s going to be your job to study, collect and catalog all of the different species of wildlife on the planet. I’m not one for hiking myself, so better you than me. Hopefully you like the outdoors?”
“Biologist? Hmm.” I slowly mull over the idea. It doesn’t sound too bad. Actually, I sort of like the idea of being a biologist, and I do love a good hike through the woods now and then.
“Seeing that’s the first time I’ve really seen you smile, I’ll assume you’re happy with your assignment.” Mary winks and gestures for me to follow her. She brings me to a waiting area filled with kids, all wearing the same purple and black. “Actually, you’re the first person I’ve had a chance to tell.” She looks to see who’s around, drops her voice, and continues, “Technically I’m supposed to get everyone checked in and take care of that, but
some
of the doctors like to deliver the news themselves.” The annoyance in her voice is unmistakable as she grabs my wrist and takes my pulse. Poor Mary must be assigned to Emily, and I wouldn’t put it past her to keep all the fun stuff for herself.
“Typical of
some
doctors; they take all the fun and glory, and leave the real work to the nurses.” My attempt at humor is poor, but Mary smiles.
“True. I guess some things don’t change, even on the other side of the Milky Way. So was biologist what you were hoping for?” She places a blood pressure cuff on my arm and starts pumping it up.
An unrelated thought hits me, and I blurt out, “Insomnia.” I see Mary’s brow furrow in confusion, and I clarify. “I don’t sleep well and I often suffer from insomnia. Could that have caused me to wake up too soon?”
“Hmm, it’s possible. I’ll tell Dr. Lambert about it,” she says as she re-inflates the cuff.
Returning to her previous question, I say, “I’m not really sure what I wanted; I only knew what I didn’t want. But I think I’ll like it.” I smile at the idea and Mary sticks a thermometer under my tongue.
“It’s strange. So far everyone that I’ve asked has been happy with their assignments. Who would have thought all those silly tests really meant something?” I nod – the thermometer is still under my tongue. “Well your vitals are good. Just take your time, and let me know when you’re ready to go. Biologist sounds pretty cool; I hope you enjoy it.” She sounds genuinely happy for me.
“Thanks, Mary. You too.” I smile as she walks toward another patient.
I start to look around me at the girls in purple and black uniforms. Most are wearing the same dazed, am-I-really-here expressions that I know I have on my face.
“Hi. I’m Suzie.” The girl next to me holds out her hand.
“Hi, I’m Brett.” I shake her hand. “Are you a biologist too?”
“No, I’m a botanist. Everyone in our group is a type of scientist.” She gestures to the others just woken around us. Briefly, I wonder what waking up had been like for them. “They must be waking everyone according to what field of study they belong to,” Suzie contemplates, shrugging.