IT CAME CRUSHING HARD

Evelyn's Pov

Three Weeks Ago

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror staring at my sleep ridden face. The only sound occupying the space was the continuous outflow of water from the faucet. I had a long day at work the other night and I barely had enough sleep.

When would I eventually end this cycle? Waking up earlier and going to bed very late. I turned off the tap, staring at myself at the mirror as silence occupied the bathroom. My hair was a mess. It looked like a rat’s nest. A human rat’s nest, I think.

I shove my fingers into my hair untangling the tangled strands.

“Look much better,” I muttered to myself.

A notification popped up on my phone screen jolting me out of my thoughts. It was a message from my mother. That was strange. Mom never sent me messages. She was the kind of person that grew up in the 90’s that wasn't really smart enough to know how to operate a smartphone so, she he only called me.

I was hesitant at first but the quirkiness of the message compelled me to open the message.

“Come to St Louis Hospital! Something happened to your papa!” I read out.

Stared at the message for a moment. It was rather confusing. Was this a butt dial? This felt like bait or something they do in movies. Why would mum tell me something this serious over a text? I dialed her number. It was ringing, for a few more seconds I thought she would pick up but she didn't.

Ding! Ding!

Another notification popped up on my phone screen this time around it was a text from Dorothy, my best friend.

“EVELYN, CODE 5050”

Her message was written in bold caps. It was our emergency code. We usually use the CODE 5050 when something bad has happened. My mind jogged back to my mum's text. Slowly, I placed the pieces together. Was dad really in danger?

I had a rushed bath and headed straight to my wardrobe. Picked out a casual gown, putting it on. I strode to the bedside table picking up my perfume, spraying it aggressively over my body. It was an emergency but me going out smelling like a skunk, now that would be another emergency.

I ran outside hailing a cab and, in a few minutes, I was at the hospital my mum had told me about earlier through text. I still looked terrible, my hair still a tangled mess. At least better than earlier.

I approached the receptionist and before I could utter a word my mother came crying, she pulled me into a hug. I didn't ask what was wrong, I just allowed her to cry onto my arms for as long as she wanted. I slowly patted her back.

“Oh dear…your father,” she said, her voice muffling under my chest. She lifted her head, her eyes locking with mine. “He got into an accident.” She said, the word finally escaping her lips.

It's just an accident.

So, I thought at first, I didn't know about the fatality of the accident and the situation. I thought he fell off his bike which happens to him once in a while. I never knew until my mother said those words that would haunt me and shape my world afterwards.

“We need to pay $350,000…. or we lose him.” My mom said, her words hit me like a stray bullet. $350,000. If we had such an amount of money my dad wouldn't have been driving a delivery bike in the first place.

“I need to see the doctor.” I thought out loud and mum nodded.

In the Doctor's Office

The doctor's office smells like antiseptic, a smell I've not perceived for a long time. We were a typical healthy family and we rarely fell ill, so the hospital was not a place we frequented. The doctor was a middle-aged Italian man. He had glasses on making him look like one of my favorite cartoon characters…. Won’t share the name so, you can add yours.

“You must be his daughter,” Dr. Patel said, adjusting his glasses looking down on a file ahead of him.

“Yes doctor. How is my father doing? What happened?” I asked, the anxiety in my voice was clear. I had hoped to hear something else from him, something different from my mum.

I wanted to believe my mom was exaggerating. Like, the amount she mentioned has been ringing in my head.

“I’m so sorry about what happened. He was knocked off by a lorry while riding his delivery bike.” Dr. Patel paused to maybe let me settle with that before he continued. “Right now, he’s in a critical condition, but we did everything we could to stabilize him.” He said, pushing a file towards me.

I stared at the file for a long time. It had my father's name boldly imprinted on it. I was hesitant at first, I didn't want to open it, I didn't want to read about how bad my father's condition was. I couldn't, but I had no choice. I opened it.

The file contained detailed analysis of his condition.

Patient—024 suffered severe head trauma, and we have to perform emergency brain surgery to reduce swelling and control internal bleeding.

Patient—024 spine is damaged, and while we’re still assessing the extent, there’s a high chance he might have some level of paralysis.

Patient—024 has multiple fractures, including a broken leg, ribs, and pelvis.

Patient—024 internal organs were affected, specifically his liver, which required immediate surgical repair.

Patient—024 also lost a significant amount of blood, so we had to give him multiple transfusions.

“However,” the doctor started, “He is currently in the ICU (Intensive Care Unit) on ventilator support because his body is too weak for him to breathe on his own. Over the next few days, we’ll monitor his brain activity, organ function, and response to treatment. If he stabilizes, he’ll need further surgeries, rehabilitation, and possibly long-term physical therapy.”

I closed the file but my father's illness wasn't closing up soon.

Would he even survive it?

Those were the thoughts that occupied my head.

“I know this is a serious case but luckily your father's health insurance was able to cover 40% of it. We would work to the extent of his health insurance coverage but it's necessary that the remnant is raised to ensure continuous treatment if not, there is nothing we can do.” Dr. Patel finally finished and I sighed.

I'm not the type to blame my problems on anyone but this moment made me so vulnerable. I cursed at the system inwardly. What's wrong with giving people free healthcare!? I smiled at the doctor; I had always learnt to do that during the hardest of times.

“Please do your best, we would definitely raise it,” I said, I smiled softly. “Have a good day doctor.”

“Have a good day too.”

Dr. Patel said but those words stung me. It felt like a mockery. Like he was mocking me and my predicaments. Have a good day? How better can today get? Unless there is a time machine somewhere that could rewind the hand of time so my dad would be able to avert the accident.

But there was none.