𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞?

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"Miss Coppolas, we're going to extubate you, which means we're going to remove the tube from your throat. We're going to give you some morphine so that it doesn't hurt, but it may be uncomfortable, okay?"

The only thing I can do is nod a verbal response is impossible.

When I woke up a few minutes ago, the panic that coursed through me was overwhelming. The idea of not being able to talk and the feeling of something down my throat sent me into a panic. The fear of not being in control sent me into a frantic frenzy. I like control, it keeps me grounded knowing that I can make my own decisions and have control over the outcome, which is why I haven't left the house in so long. But when the control is taken from me its overwhelming so to not be in control of something as simple as breathing, you can imagine anxiety that overcomes me.

They push something into the IV that's situated in the back of my hand, and the liquid goes through my veins, leaving an ice trail in its path.

A few nurses come in, gloves on, and they come to stand beside me as they begin to turn off machines, they look at me as if to ask 'can we proceed?' And I nod my head slightly, and they begin to remove pieces of the tube that currently settles down my throat and begin to remove it.

As the tube comes out my throat, I begin to cough violently, before finally taking a breath on my own, and the coughing subsides.

Mama has been sat with me the whole time, but turned away with a cry when they started removing the tube.

Once they've removed it, Mama rushes over to the bed and takes my hand in hers, while the nurses take the equipment out of the room and leave us with the doctor.

"We're going to keep you on high-flow oxygen for the next few days, which we will reduce throughout the next 48-72 hours, but if your oxygen saturation levels stay the same, you should be home within the next few days." The doctor informs us, and Mama breaks into a large smile as the doctor places a mask over my mouth.

The doctor walks out while my panic sets in. I'm in a hospital, with sick people. What if they didn't clean everything properly? What if I catch something?

Mama sees my frantic eyes and puts a white plastic bag in front of me, and gestures for me to open it. Pouring the contents of the bag onto the table beside my bed, I scan through them.

Anti bacterial wipes, hand gel and face masks.

My eyes widen and I look to my mother. "Mama, who brought me these?"

I begin to open the wipes and vigorously wipe down the sides of the bed and the table in front of me. I look to Mama, and she plays with the bracelet on her wrist like she does when she's nervous or about to lie. "Toni brought them for you the other day." She pauses and looks up at me. "I'm so glad you're okay piccola, but we need to talk about the house."

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