There was a soft beeping noise and it subtly grew louder, and then there was the mechanical noise of air being pushed. My vision was blurry and undefined. I could see the light flooding in and then finally a man with glasses right up at my face. That's when it hit me; my head hurt. A lot. My tongue felt dry like sandpaper in my mouth. I could not remember the last time I felt so dehydrated. I turned my head and the doctor was saying something.
"How are you?" and he peered over at me in his large glasses.
"I'm a little dazed," I said in a hoarse voice. "Where am I?" I asked.
"In the hospital, dear," said the old doctor. Now I could see his wrinkles clearly.
"What? what happened?" I asked him trying to sit up so I could get a better orientation of where I was.
"Don't worry. Your family is safe," he told me and he started to pull on the clear tubes that were attached to me.
"No, but what happened?" I asked again.
"You were in an accident, but everything is fine," he said in a reassuring voice.
I tried to remember being in an accident, but nothing was coming to me.
"Do you remember anything?" he asked with a concerned look on his face.
"No," said automatically. What was the last thing I could remember? I closed my eyes. I had to be somewhere before the hospital. Then, like a rush of wind, it came back...
It was a warm dry summer as most of the summers in Calgary are. The cars were packed with the rest of our belongings in our uncle's blue van. My oldest sister was crying and being dramatic, my other sister was helping my parents finish packing, and I was in the back of the car and listening to my iPod. My uncle then drove us to the airport and we said our goodbyes and we went through security and they confiscated my dad's water bottle and he tried to argue with them, but it was no use. We then found the appropriate gate and we waited until we could board. We got on, but then there was turbulence. The seat belt light went on. At first, it was just a little bumpy, but then it went black, the masks dropped from the ceiling, and suddenly there was panic. Screaming, yelling, crying, and then black.
"I was in a plane accident," I said slowly. The doctor then handed me a glass of water and I gulped it down so quickly I nearly choked.
"We will be having our specialist do some basic tests and you should be good to go in a few days," explained the doctor as he looked at his clipboard. Then he walked out of the room. Soon he came back with a short blonde guy that resembled a Ken doll; he had perfect teeth and bright blue eyes, and he also wore a navy blue suit.
"Hi, my name is Jon Johnson. I will be running the tests today," he said brightly.
"I will leave you to it. Don't worry, he is the best," explained the doctor.
"Alright. We will be doing some blood work and then I will ask you some questions and test your eyesight, hearing, and do a basic physical," he explained and he started to pull out a needle with clear tubes. Then without warning, he struck the inside of my arm with the needle. I winced a bit, and he took very little of my blood. He reached for the thermometer and he put it in my ear and he heard the beep.
"Huh," he said. "That's interesting," he said to himself.
"What's interesting?" I asked.
"Nothing. Don't worry about it," he said and he flashed me a fake smile.
He then pulled out his pencil and made my eyes follow it. He took my pulse and my heart rate. Then, he just got up and then he left the room, but he came back with the doctor, talking in whispers and low tones.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Have you experienced any change in temperature?" asked my doctor.
"No, I feel fine other than this striking headache," I told him.
"Oh right," said the doctor and from his lab coat he pulled out a large needle, which was the size of a television remote, and without warning stabbed it into my arm. At first, I felt a pang of pain jolt through my body and then the world had gone black.
I woke up and it seemed to be nighttime. Outside was dark and the lights in my room were off. My headache was gone. I looked around the room and I got up from my bed. I felt weak and my legs shook a bit as I stood up. I helped myself around the bed using the armrests. I managed to get around to the bathroom while holding myself up. I flicked on the light and it made me squint a bit and I was face to face with the mirror. My blonde hair was significantly longer than I remembered. There were bags under my eyes and I looked exhausted. My face was hollow and pale above my right eye was a bruise that was starting to yellow from the healing process. A scratch was on my forehead, and my blue eyes stood out from my pasty skin. My arms had scratches all over them. I did not recognize the person staring back at me. I used the washroom and then I was about to go back to my bed when I heard the familiar whispering of the doctor voice and the blonde man.
"-Her vitals are off the charts. We need to be careful with her. Her family survived the crash and the test results were unlike anything I've seen," said the concerned voice of the doctor.
"Don't worry. Nothing will be showing up in weeks. I will be checking in every day and I'm sure she will be fine. I train these people every day. Trust me, okay?" said the confident voice of the blonde man. Then their voices trailed off. I sat down on my bed. There was no way they were talking about me, but then again, I had been doing tests with the blonde and they were by my room... but it did not make any sense. That's when I noticed the newspaper. May 9, 2009 was the date on the paper. We were supposed to be moving in February. I knew there had to be a nurse somewhere. I got up from my bed again and hobbled over to the front desk. The nurse looked up and concern was written on her face.
"What's the date?" I asked her.
"May 9, why?" she answered.
"Oh, nevermind," I said and I went back to my room. I was in a coma for two months. I lost two months of my life. I was asleep for two whole months. I flicked on the television and flipped through the channels until I found the news. It was the report on the plane crash; the videos were awful; the fire was everywhere and only half the plane was in the picture.
"There were only three survivors on this plane and people are saying it must have been a miracle because the three survivors were sisters," said the reporter. Then I started thinking there was a kid behind me that kept kicking my seat and now he was somewhere buried in the ground. If only I could have known, I would have treated that kid with respect or I would have saved the plane from crashing. I could have done something, anything. Now, that kid was dead. Just then, the blonde guy walked in.
"Hi, I am Jon," he said.
"You know that you are special right?" he asked me.
"Yeah, really special. I survived a plane crash and the kid behind me did not," I said.
"You can change the world now. I know that you are only one person, but one grain of rice can tip the scales," he said quietly.
"I think I want to help people."
"I know, and believe me you will," he told me. "Don't worry about the future. That's still to come. For now, get some rest and then you will be going home in the morning," he said.
"But the doctor said that-"
"I know, but that injection helps heal. Your headache is gone and tomorrow you will be able to go home," he said with a smile.
"Okay," I said and with that Jon left my room. But I had no idea that my life was going to be flipped around and thrown upside down.