BEEP, BEEP, BEEP…Ever so slowly, I

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP…
Ever so slowly, I began to register my surroundings. My ears kicked in first as my sluggish, tired body came awake. I heard the sound of the pulse oximetry monitor as it beeped away in the background, tugging me out of dreamland. Like most days, before I even managed to crack open my eyelids, I’d take account of my surroundings, listening to the world around me and mentally checking off the things I could hear to determine where I was.
Someone wheeled a rickety cart down the hallway, its wheels spinning and squeaking, as she pushed it to its final destination. Across the hall, someone chatted outside a room. Close to me, the ever-present sounds of the equipment beeped and buzzed while monitoring my oxygen and heart rhythm.
All these sounds together could only mean one thing.
I was in the hospital—still.
Most kids had a favorite grandmother’s house, or a special friend they couldn’t get enough of—I had Memorial Regional. It had been my home away from home since I was an infant.
It was definitely not the same.
Home was quiet and warm.
The hospital bustled with noise at every God-given hour of the day, regardless of whether the sun or the moon was currently occupying the sky.
Staying here also felt like spending a night in a meat locker. I’d learned through my many years here that heat bred infection, which is why nurses buried patients in blankets rather than cranked up the furnace. Standing barely five and a half feet on my tiptoes, I weighed a little over a hundred pounds. No amounts of blankets could ever keep me warm. I seriously loved heaters.
I rubbed my chest as I took a labored breath though my lungs. It crackled slightly as I exhaled. Biting down on my lip, I tried to ignore it, focusing on my one and only goal for the day.
Going home today. I’m going home today, I chanted.
My eyelids reluctantly lifted, my vision blurry at first until the room came into view. Nothing had changed since I fell asleep last night. I saw the same boring, lackluster eggshell-colored walls and the same white board listing my nurse on shift with a little happy face drawn next to her name.
Grace was working this morning. She was young, around my age, and she’d just recently graduated with her nursing degree. She loved happy faces, hearts, and anything else she could draw with a dry-erase marker. She reminded me of a Disney princess. Even in scrubs, she was over-the-top girlie. I swore, one of these days, she was going to break out into song, summon an entire forest full of small animals, and perform a musical, complete with dancing squirrels and singing larks.
But all that would have to wait for another day because I was leaving—today.
What was supposed to be an in-and-out routine procedure had turned out to be another prolonged hospital stay. I was more than ready to get home to my own bed. I hated hospital beds. They were uncomfortable, hard, and never felt right.
Seriously, who makes these things? Do they actually test the beds out? I know the beds are supposed to be functional, but really, they could add some padding.
I’d arrived at the hospital two weeks ago, expecting to stay a couple of days, to switch out the battery in my pacemaker, but as always, things hadn’t gone as planned, and I’d ended up in the hospital—again.
Story of my life.
But not today. Today, I was free—well, as free as my life would allow.
I was born with a heart defect. Basically, my heart was larger than it was supposed to be. It made breathing and mostly everything else difficult because my heart had to work ten times harder than normal. In a nutshell, this little defect controlled my entire life.
It was also slowly killing me, which was why I couldn’t wait to break free of this prison. When you were living your life on borrowed time, every second you had to spend watching the days pass by through a hospital room window was one moment less you had to be doing something meaningful.
In my sheltered life, my idea of meaningful might be defined as something completely lackluster and conventional, but at least it wouldn’t be spent here.
I slowly exhaled another wheezy breath out through my mouth at the exact moment Grace decided to walk through the door.
“Good morning!” she nearly sang.
She gave me her dazzling white smile that was entirely too perky for the ungodly early hour. Her dark curls bobbed behind her as she bounced over to the computer terminal and began her morning ritual.
“Morning, Grace. How are you?” I asked.
“I’m fantastic! The sun is shining, and the birds are singing! My favorite patient is being discharged today! It’s a fantastic day!”
Wow, two fantastics in one breath.
The corner of my mouth curved into a smile, mimicking hers. “You’re extra chipper today. Any particular reason?” I inquired, knowing she had mentioned going on a special date with her boyfriend last night.
They’d been dating for two years, and she’d been hinting at an engagement for a while. My guess was her boyfriend finally caught on.
Grace played dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She held her left hand up to her cheek as she shook her head back and forth.
There, on her ring finger, was a perfect, dazzling white diamond ring that matched her sparkling eyes.
“You got engaged! What a surprise!” I exclaimed.
It wasn’t a surprise though. She’d been talking about it since I had arrived.
I really want to be happy for her—no, scratch that. I am happy for her. She deserves all the happiness in the world.
My life is not horrible. It’s just different, I reminded myself.
“Thank you! It was so sweet. He got down on one knee in his suit—on the beach, no less—and told me I was the only woman he’d ever want to share his life with, and then he pulled out this ring. It was so romantic.”
“It sounds beautiful,” I said.
She began to jot down numbers while checking me over. Her brows suddenly furrowed together, causing me to become alarmed.
“What is it?” I asked.
“What? Oh, nothing. I don’t think it’s anything serious. Your pulse ox reading is just a little low.” She bent forward with a stethoscope and listened to my lungs for a moment. “Let me just update Dr. Marcus, and he’ll be in to chat with you in a bit.”
I nodded absently as she scooted out quickly, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Looking down at my pointer finger which was attached to the machine that monitored my oxygen levels, I sighed. The reading wasn’t terribly low—at least, not enough to trigger an alarm thankfully. I let out a small groan and slumped my head forward in defeat. I knew what this meant—something wasn’t right, and Grace hadn’t wanted to say anything because it was now above her pay grade.
So, now, I had to just sit here and wait—alone.
Sitting around in a hospital, day in and day out, was tedious. There was only so much TV I could watch, so many books I could read, before my head felt like it might explode. Sometimes, the craving for human interaction could become so intense that I’d feel physically ill.
My mother had been here every day, and her company meant the world to me, but the desire and need to interact
with someone my own age was overwhelming. I just wanted someone who hadn’t helped me go to the bathroom or didn’t watch my every move with anxiety, afraid my next breath might land me back in the hospital.
The book my mother had been reading—something academic, a text book no doubt—was lying on the cushion of the worn blue chair in the corner, forgotten along with her jacket and a notebook. She must have stayed late and left after I’d fallen asleep. She usually didn’t stay past seven, but she had been desperately trying to finish her syllabus for the next semester so that she’d have it done before I returned home. She would always be so paranoid whenever I was discharged from a hospital stay. She feared I would have some sort of rebound and end up back where I started—laying back in that room waiting for my next escape. Therefore, in her mind, my need for supervision doubled, tripled even. She’d end up almost killing herself, trying to get everything done in preparation for my return.
My mother, Molly Buchanan, was a religious studies professor at the local community college. She was probably one of the most eclectic women on the planet. When I was young, I’d once asked her about why she taught religion, but we didn’t go to church. She’d smiled sweetly and told me that she loved learning about religions so much that she couldn’t pick just one, so she never had. It had made sense to me when I was a naïve child, but now, it just made me laugh. I’d decided years ago after being one of her students that my mom was just overly curious about the behavior of humans and there was no better way to learn the hows and whys of people than through their religions.
I spent what was hopefully going to be my last morning in the hospital eating less than stellar eggs and toast from a tray while I haphazardly flipped through the fourteen channels on TV. After catching up on the news and watching a rerun of Boy Meets World, I decided it was time to pack.
Careful of the hep-lock buried in the crook of my arm, I slowly got up and made my way to the en-suite bathroom.
I brushed my teeth and attempted to throw my long blonde hair into a ponytail. I then gathered all my toiletries and placed them in the bag my mom had brought. After returning to the room, I threw the small bag into the suitcase by the bed. Several other items also went in, and after a few minutes, I was ready to go.
I could hear my bed calling out for me, whispering my name. Uninterrupted sleep was something that was seriously taken for granted by those who were lucky enough to enjoy it. Right now, I was exhausted—probably more exhausted than I should be, but I ignored that because I was going home.
After everything in my room had been tidied up, I settled back down to wait out the day.

Hasil (Bahasa Indonesia) 1:

BIP, BIP, BIP...Pernah begitu perlahan-lahan, saya mulai mendaftar lingkungan saya. Telinga saya menendang pertama sebagai tubuh saya lamban, lelah datang terjaga. Aku mendengar suara pulsa oximetry monitor seperti itu berbunyi jauhnya di latar belakang, menarik saya keluar dari dreamland. Seperti kebanyakan hari, sebelum aku bahkan berhasil retak membuka kelopak mataku, aku akan mengambil rekening lingkungan saya, mendengarkan dunia di sekitar saya dan mental memeriksa dari hal-hal yang aku bisa mendengar untuk menentukan mana aku berada.Seseorang roda gerobak reyot menyusuri lorong, roda yang berputar dan mendecit, seperti dia mendorongnya ke tujuan akhir. Di seberang lorong, seseorang mengobrol di luar kamar. Dekat dengan saya, selalu ada suara peralatan berbunyi dan berdengung sementara pemantauan irama saya oksigen dan jantung.Semua suara ini bersama-sama hanya bisa berarti satu hal.Aku berada di rumah sakit-masih.Kebanyakan anak-anak memiliki rumah nenek favorit, atau teman khusus yang mereka tidak bisa mendapatkan cukup dari — aku Memorial Regional. Sudah saya jauh dari rumah sejak aku masih bayi.Itu pasti tidak sama.Rumah adalah tenang dan hangat.Rumah sakit bustled dengan kebisingan pada jam diberikan Tuhan setiap hari, terlepas dari apakah matahari atau bulan adalah pada saat ini menduduki langit.Tinggal di sini juga merasa seperti menghabiskan malam di locker daging. Saya telah belajar melalui bertahun-tahun saya di sini bahwa panas dibesarkan infeksi, itulah sebabnya perawat dimakamkan pasien dalam selimut daripada memutar tungku. Berdiri hampir lima setengah kaki di berjinjit saya, saya ditimbang sedikit lebih dari seratus pound. Ada jumlah selimut pernah bisa tetap hangat. Aku sungguh-sungguh mencintai pemanas.Aku menggosok dada saya seperti aku menarik napas bekerja keras meskipun paru-paru. Itu berderak sedikit seperti saya dihembuskan. Menggigit turun pada bibir saya, saya mencoba untuk mengabaikannya, berfokus pada saya dan tujuan hanya untuk hari.Hari pulang. Aku akan pulang kemarin, aku bernyanyi.Kelopak mataku enggan diangkat, visi saya kabur di pertama sampai kamar datang ke pemandangan. Tidak ada yang berubah sejak aku tertidur tadi malam. Kulihat sama membosankan, bersemangat dinding berwarna kulit telur dan papan putih sama daftar saya perawat pada pergeseran dengan sedikit wajah gembira yang ditarik di sebelah namanya.Grace bekerja pagi ini. Dia masih muda, di usia saya, dan dia telah baru-baru ini lulus dengan gelar Keperawatan. Dia menyukai wajah-wajah bahagia, hati, dan apa pun yang dia bisa menggambar dengan spidol dry-menghapus. Dia mengingatkan saya pada seorang putri Disney. Bahkan dalam scrub, dia adalah over-the-top girlie. Aku bersumpah, suatu hari, ia akan keluar ke lagu, memanggil seluruh hutan penuh binatang kecil, dan tampil musik, lengkap dengan menari Tupai dan bernyanyi larks.Tapi semua yang akan memiliki untuk menunggu hari lain karena aku meninggalkan — hari ini.Apa yang seharusnya menjadi prosedur rutin yang masuk dan keluar telah berubah menjadi lain rumah sakit yang berkepanjangan tinggal. Aku sudah lebih dari siap untuk pulang ke tempat tidur saya sendiri. Aku benci tempat tidur rumah sakit. Mereka tidak nyaman, sulit, dan tidak pernah merasa benar.Serius, yang membuat hal-hal ini? Apakah mereka benar-benar menguji tempat tidur keluar? Aku tahu tempat tidur seharusnya menjadi fungsional, tetapi benar-benar, mereka bisa menambahkan padding beberapa.Aku tiba di rumah sakit dua minggu lalu, mengharapkan untuk menginap beberapa hari, untuk beralih keluar baterai dalam alat pacu jantung saya, tapi seperti biasa, segala sesuatu tidak berjalan seperti yang direncanakan, dan aku akhirnya di rumah sakit-lagi.Cerita tentang kehidupan saya.Tapi tidak hari ini. Hari ini, aku gratis-Yah, gratis hidup saya akan memungkinkan.Saya lahir dengan cacat jantung. Pada dasarnya, hatiku adalah lebih besar daripada itu seharusnya. Itu membuat pernapasan dan terutama segala sesuatu yang lain sulit karena hati saya harus bekerja sepuluh kali lebih keras daripada normal. Singkatnya, Cacat kecil ini dikontrol seluruh hidup saya.Itu juga perlahan-lahan telah membunuh saya, yang adalah mengapa aku tidak sabar untuk membebaskan diri dari penjara ini. Ketika Anda tinggal hidup Anda pada waktu dipinjam, setiap detik yang Anda harus menghabiskan waktu menonton hari-hari berlalu melalui rumah sakit jendela kamar adalah satu saat kurang Anda harus melakukan sesuatu yang bermakna.Dalam hidup saya terlindung, ide saya berarti mungkin dapat didefinisikan sebagai sesuatu yang benar-benar bersemangat dan konvensional, tapi setidaknya itu tidak akan menghabiskan waktu di sini.Aku perlahan-lahan menghembuskan nafas wheezy lain keluar melalui mulut pada saat yang tepat Grace memutuskan untuk berjalan melalui pintu."Selamat pagi!" dia hampir menyanyikan.Dia memberiku Nya senyum putih menyilaukan yang sepenuhnya terlalu bersemangat untuk jam awal durhaka. Ikal nya gelap nongol belakangnya saat ia melompat alih ke komputer terminal dan mulai ritual pagi nya."Pagi, kasih karunia. Bagaimana kabarmu?" Saya bertanya."Aku fantastis! Matahari bersinar, dan burung-burung bernyanyi! Pasien favorit saya adalah dibuang hari! Itu adalah hari yang fantastis!"Wow, dua fantastics dalam satu nafas.Sudut mulut saya melengkung ke dalam senyum, meniru miliknya. "Kau tambahan gembira hari ini. Alasan tertentu?" Saya bertanya, mengetahui Dia telah disebutkan akan khusus kencan dengan pacarnya tadi malam.Mereka telah berpacaran selama dua tahun, dan dia telah mengisyaratkan pertunangan untuk sementara. Saya duga adalah pacarnya akhirnya tertangkap pada.Grace memainkan bodoh. "Aku tidak tahu apa yang sedang Anda bicarakan." Dia memegang tangannya kiri sampai pipi Nya sebagai ia menggelengkan kepalanya bolak-balik.Di sana, pada jarinya cincin, adalah sempurna, menyilaukan cincin berlian putih yang cocok matanya yang bersinar."Anda bertunangan! Apa kejutan!" Aku berseru.Bukan kejutan meskipun. Dia telah berbicara tentang hal itu sejak aku tiba.Aku benar-benar ingin menjadi bahagia untuknya — tidak, scratch itu. Aku bahagia untuknya. Dia pantas semua kebahagiaan di dunia.My life is not horrible. It’s just different, I reminded myself.“Thank you! It was so sweet. He got down on one knee in his suit—on the beach, no less—and told me I was the only woman he’d ever want to share his life with, and then he pulled out this ring. It was so romantic.”“It sounds beautiful,” I said.She began to jot down numbers while checking me over. Her brows suddenly furrowed together, causing me to become alarmed.“What is it?” I asked.“What? Oh, nothing. I don’t think it’s anything serious. Your pulse ox reading is just a little low.” She bent forward with a stethoscope and listened to my lungs for a moment. “Let me just update Dr. Marcus, and he’ll be in to chat with you in a bit.”I nodded absently as she scooted out quickly, leaving me alone with my thoughts.Looking down at my pointer finger which was attached to the machine that monitored my oxygen levels, I sighed. The reading wasn’t terribly low—at least, not enough to trigger an alarm thankfully. I let out a small groan and slumped my head forward in defeat. I knew what this meant—something wasn’t right, and Grace hadn’t wanted to say anything because it was now above her pay grade.So, now, I had to just sit here and wait—alone.Sitting around in a hospital, day in and day out, was tedious. There was only so much TV I could watch, so many books I could read, before my head felt like it might explode. Sometimes, the craving for human interaction could become so intense that I’d feel physically ill.My mother had been here every day, and her company meant the world to me, but the desire and need to interactwith someone my own age was overwhelming. I just wanted someone who hadn’t helped me go to the bathroom or didn’t watch my every move with anxiety, afraid my next breath might land me back in the hospital.The book my mother had been reading—something academic, a text book no doubt—was lying on the cushion of the worn blue chair in the corner, forgotten along with her jacket and a notebook. She must have stayed late and left after I’d fallen asleep. She usually didn’t stay past seven, but she had been desperately trying to finish her syllabus for the next semester so that she’d have it done before I returned home. She would always be so paranoid whenever I was discharged from a hospital stay. She feared I would have some sort of rebound and end up back where I started—laying back in that room waiting for my next escape. Therefore, in her mind, my need for supervision doubled, tripled even. She’d end up almost killing herself, trying to get everything done in preparation for my return.My mother, Molly Buchanan, was a religious studies professor at the local community college. She was probably one of the most eclectic women on the planet. When I was young, I’d once asked her about why she taught religion, but we didn’t go to church. She’d smiled sweetly and told me that she loved learning about religions so much that she couldn’t pick just one, so she never had. It had made sense to me when I was a naïve child, but now, it just made me laugh. I’d decided years ago after being one of her students that my mom was just overly curious about the behavior of humans and there was no better way to learn the hows and whys of people than through their religions.I spent what was hopefully going to be my last morning in the hospital eating less than stellar eggs and toast from a tray while I haphazardly flipped through the fourteen channels on TV. After catching up on the news and watching a rerun of Boy Meets World, I decided it was time to pack.Careful of the hep-lock buried in the crook of my arm, I slowly got up and made my way to the en-suite bathroom.I brushed my teeth and attempted to throw my long blonde hair into a ponytail. I then gathered all my toiletries and placed them in the bag my mom had brought. After returning to the room, I threw the small bag into the suitcase by the bed. Several other items also went in, and after a few minutes, I was ready to go.I could hear my bed calling out for me, whispering my name. Uninterrupted sleep was something that was seriously taken for granted by those who were lucky enough to enjoy it. Right now, I was exhausted—probably more exhausted than I should be, but I ignored that because I was going home.After everything in my room had been tidied up, I settled back down to wait out the day.