The Neurotic Episodic Adventures of a Misanthropic Nihilist

By WriteGirl

Part 1.

Suddenly, the room went silent. She couldn‘t hear her neighbors anymore. AVacuum. Something was off. There was a sharp ringing sound and suddenly a pop. She swung her head and the pain radiated from behind her left eye, down her neck and left her shoulder stinging.
It had finally happened.

She’d popped.

Days later, she was told it had been an aneurism.
Her experience wasn’t uncommon. She was told by her doctor.
“Still not special, huh?”
He insisted that she was in fact very special. She was lucky to have survived with little to no injury to her brain. Her hearing would slowly return to normal.

Normal.

“Hold on, I can’t hear you.” She paused and pretended to shuffle things around, feigning frustrated noises and finally. “Listen, I’m just getting in, can I call you back?”, yelling loudly into the cell phone’s mic.
Perfect excuse not to talk to anyone on the phone.
“No. No. I still can’t hear you. I’m deaf in my left ear since last week. Text me. My fingers still work. Sort of. Don‘t get crazy.”

Her mother reluctantly promised to text.

She had sat in the ER alone wondering what the fuck had just happened inside her head. She hoped it wouldn’t be anything too serious. But if it was something, that it would be quick and fatal.

After she was admitted, the nurses offered to call her family for her. She had listed no emergency contact in her paperwork.
“I’m better off without them.” Was her uniform response.
One nurse looked at her like she herself was offended by this.

“Those are supposed to be healing eyes. They feel very judge-y to me.” Kyle mumbled from her bed.

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“Do you need to get laid?”
“Are you offering?” Kyle peered over top of her glasses, one eyebrow raised. Looking up and down the man’s figure.
“You clearly need a good fuck.”
“Peon, change my sheets and get out before I report this to someone who‘ll do little to nothing about it.”
This was the same “hospital person” she would have complained about in as many days as she had been admitted.
“Are you even a real medical professional? Is a good fuck your cure all for my diagnosis? Don’t you want to read my chart first, Doc?”

As the orderly left, Kyle promised there would be something waiting for him in the bedpan by his next shift and went back to her newspaper.

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The Neurotic Episodic Adventures of a Misanthropic Nihilist

Created: Jan 25, 2010

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