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Rated: 13+ · Draft · Teen · #1710065
A draft of the first chapter of a novel I wish to write.
I'm sitting upright in my uncomfortable electric bed in this far from home place they call the hospital. Although it may as well be my place of residence these days, as I"ve spent more time in this depressingly lonely place than my warm and inviting house with my family.
This chaos started when I had a horrible accident when I was 12, just as I started high school. I was casually walking home after school one day. Walking at my own pace enjoying the beautiful warm sun shining on my on my often cold and pale body. I was crossing a rather busy road when my legs felt frighteningly weak. I was Hoping I made it across the road before they gave way. Unfortunately, it was not to be. Before I knew it, I fell face first on the middle of the road. I desperately tried to get up before a car came but my arms were just as weak as legs were. I fell again, this time harder. I vaguely remember thinking "what's happening, why can't I get up" and the next thing I remember I was in a hospital bed connected to numerous cords. My mum, who was asleep in a chair in the corner beside my bed, looking as though she had been crying for hours on end, woke up and moved closer to hold my hand and kissing it and my forehead in all desperateness as though she hadn't seen me for years. I remember thinking "gees she looks like she's aged, with those bags under her eyes and her now pale, which was once perfect made-up face" I'm pretty sure it was only that morning I had last seen her, so why was she acting so strange. "Mum, w-w-what's happened?" I struggled to speak and oh , man did my head hurt something shocking
"Shh honey. You had an accident. The doctors and nurses are doing everything they can do to work out exactly what happened. Just get some sleep sweetie, you'll need to talk to the doctors tomorrow and tell them what you remember." Mum calmed me.

The following day brought with it numerous tests, from blood tests to x-rays, you name it, I had it. I also had to speak to doctors and nurses and explain what I remember of the event. I had to tell them what it felt like, how often it happened and everything that happened with it. I was disconnected from half yhe tubes that day but still had the oxygen tube in my nose and the drip supplying fluids, antibiotics and pain relief. Although no results for the tests were given, I was discharged at the end of the week.

The weakness in my legs and arms were becoming more frequent. With this I was struggling to raise my arms, get off a chair or bed. I was beginning to get more fatigued during the day but restless at night and quite short of breath. I was taken to the doctor where they gave me inhalers to help my breathing and said I had asthma but that didn't help much. I was statring to have trouble walking so mum took me to the doctors again and explained this wasn't working but told him what was happening. I wasn't able to do much so he admitted me to hospital where they carried out more blood tests and biopsies and muscle taken from my calf whilst under general anesthetic, their suspicions of Muscular Distrophy (MD) were confirmed. More specifically, Limb Girdle Muscular Distrophy (LGMD). Mum and I were satisfied, we finally had answers. Limb Girdle Muscular Distrophy is a horrible rare disease which affects the upper arm and lower leg. This particular form of MD is the only one that affects both boys and girls. I was one of the few girls in the country that was unfortunate enough to have this horrid disease. Apparently Muscular Distrophy is inherited from the mother. Why was my mum lucky enough to just be a carrier of it but I was unlucky enough to have symptomatic version? I was so envious of my mum at this time. She had the disease but was asymptomatic. Lucky thing. Why had God chosen me to go through this horrible stuff?

I was remembering my past in such presice detail, I didn't notice the gorgeous doctor walk in, on his rounds, letting me know my physio session was later this afternoon. The doctor Mike, looked very young. Just a little older than my 18 year old self, early twenties I presume. He had the most stunning blue eyes I'd ever seen. His golden hair shone in the sun. His teeth seen through his beautiful open-mouth smile, were sparkling white like the snow on a on a sunny day. His accent of South Africa melted my heart and all of these features together made my heart beat a million times faster than normal and I swear I was dribbling. How I knew his accent was one of South Africa, you may ask? My uncle has a very similar accent now mixed with a kiwi one.
I think I just met the man of my dreams and possibly my future husband and soul mate.
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