Sleep Disorders

Chapter 16

A/N: Hey loves :)

I've been meaning to publish this chapter since last weekend, but I have been so busy!

Vote! Comment! And most importantly, ENJOY!

---

Grace 🌸

I sat at the edge of the hospital bed, the plastic covering crinkled under my body. I looked at the ticking clock on the pristine white wall. It was 14:01 and I was just in time for my appointment with Dr Hector.

Dr Hector was my neurologist at Winchester Hospital. He had been monitoring my brain activity and my disorder ever since the car crash. At first I would see him every two weeks. As my mental health improved he would slowly prolong my visits and now I only see him every six months, just for a quick brain scan and mental health assessment.

Dr Hector, a middle aged man with greying hair and the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen hidden behind wire rimmed glasses, walked into the room with a bright smile. He held a clipboard in his left hand and stuck out his right hand for my mom, who was sitting on the visitor's chair, to shake.

We went through our usual cordial greetings. Dr Hector asked me how things were going, if there had been any mental improvements, if I had gotten my birthday gift from Winchester Hospital etc. Then he took me to the room in which they would do the brain scan. The first time I came to this room I was terrified, but now this room was as familiar as my bedroom.

I lay down on the cold bed and I was pulled into the machine. I closed my eyes and listened to the beep-beep-beep and all the other mechanical sounds the machine made. 15 minutes later the scan was completed and I was helped out of the machine and onto the floor. Dr Hector took me back to his office.

In the pale white-walled office, Dr Hector studied the notes of my brain scan. His eyes squinted at the results that lined the page and he stroked the coarse grey hairs on his chin while he scrutinized my mental report. As usual my mom and I waited patiently to hear the words he was bound to say any moment. "Everything is perfect. There has been no improvement. See you in six months time." Those were the words I had gotten so accustomed to hearing. It was neither good nor bad news.

When Dr Hector eventually looked up, his expression was unreadable. "Is something wrong, doctor?" my mom asked, her voice laced with concern.

"Yes, I've been conversing with other specialists in the lab and it appears your daughter has an... aneurysm."

"What?!" my mother asked and I could hear the fear building up in her voice.

"An aneurysm is a weak, bulging area in the wall of an artery that supplies blood. We have detected that Grace has an aneurysm on her brain. Most of the time a brain aneurysm has no symptoms and goes undetected until it ruptures. You are lucky that we discovered the aneurysm now before it was too late."

I tried to grasp the words Dr Hector was saying. His eyes were filled with pity directed at me and I didn't like being pitied. I didn't feel lucky at all.

"Is it fatal?" my mom asked.

"Ruptured aneurysms are fatal 40% of the time. 66% of the survivors suffer from a permanent neurological deficiency. 15% of patients with aneurysmal subarachnoid hemorrage die before reaching the hospital."

Dr Hector might have been speaking a different language for all I understood. He must have noticed my confused expression because he explained: "Picture a red balloon of blood attached to your brain. That is an aneurysm. Now picture the balloon bursting! That is what will happen once the aneurysm ruptures."