Get Up Prt 3

The doctor unhooks her from the machine, keeping her heartbeat monitored loudly, and I hold my breath, inhaling sharply as the beep, beep, is stalled so suddenly the air becomes unbearably silent. I don’t get why he would take that off, but when he yanks another box from under the bed and plugs her onto that instead I exhale, slightly confused. That familiar beep, beep, starts up again, in a subtler tone from a different machine and he moves to the next, and next, replacing everything he can with smaller mobile devices as my brain pulls together amid my own frantic fear and gives me a shake.

He’s not trying to save her, or trying to take her off the machines, he’s making her mobile so he can move her.

He stops, rushes off out of sight as he heads into the elevator once more, abandoning everything he’s left in chaos and a moment later, comes crashing back ungracefully, pushing another bed. This time it’s on wheels, back to her room. I press m