Burdens - Chapter 118: Dry
#118 of Burdens
Don't mind me.
Chapter 118: Dry
Consciousness flooded into Roger's mind like a dam had burst. He was suddenly aware of everything around him, especially how cold he was. He was wrapped in several blankets and the heater was on in the room. He could not stop shivering and his jaw was in constant motion.
The first thing that he noticed after how cold he felt was that he was extremely disoriented. The room he was in was unknown. Everyone that stood in it wore a light green medical uniform. There were other beds near him, and his walls were curtains. It dawned on him that the room was much larger than he originally thought.
The heater was localized for him, so it did not disturb the other patients. He could not turn his head yet, not because he was incapable, but because he was afraid to do so. It still felt fairly painful.
He did not feel as weak as before, but his arms and legs still felt like jelly. They felt like they had just woken up from a long slumber, and there was still a slight tingling sensation.
There were conversations everywhere, although hushed.
He then noticed all of the wires attached to him, as well as the tube that fed the saline solution into his system. He desperately wanted it removed, and his heart rate began to increase substantially, at least from what he could tell by the beeping off to the side.
A nurse had noticed and quickly walked over. "Please try to stay still, sweetie," the nurse told him. It was the weasel from earlier.
He did as he was told. "Where am I?" he was able to say weakly.
"You're in another room so that we can monitor you while you recover. After surgery, you can never be too safe," the weasel said softly. He gave a smile and went to find a phone.
Roger tried to calm himself down. He looked around, turning his head ever so gently and slowly. It hurt his neck slightly to move it, and he was still shivering.
Someone walked over to his bed. It was someone he did not recognize. A hyena. Elderly.
"I'm Dr. Cyril," he told him. "I'm your surgeon. I'm glad to see you're awake. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Roger let out a weak, "Yeah." He continued to shiver violently.
"Very good. Do you remember who you are?" the hyena asked.
"Yes," Roger said, with a little more force in his voice. The more he spoke the easier it became.
"Wonderful," the hyena said. He walked forward and checked the fox's eyes, shining a small flashlight into them briefly. "Do you believe your vision has changed at all?"
"No," the fox choked out. His throat felt incredibly dry and he desperately wanted some water just to help it, though he felt fairly hydrated.
"Good, good," the hyena said, trailing off. He was more focused on examining something on the fox's head.
The fox could feel the hyena's fingers prodding slightly on his forehead. It did not seem painful. He asked painfully, "Why... am I... so cold?"
The hyena explained in a matter-of-fact tone, "We induced hypothermia. It's safer for you that way during the surgery." He finished examining the fox's head, and then asked him to wiggle his fingers and toes, one by one. Roger did as he was directed.
"You're a very lucky guy," the hyena said. "The tumor was in a generally harmless spot when we removed it. We have it in a jar if you would like it. Some of our patients do. The problem was that it was getting much too large and putting a lot of pressure on the rest of your brain."
He sadly said, "Some of our patients, not so lucky. Sometimes the tumor is in a very difficult spot, or simply can't be removed because it would kill the patient."
The hyena stood back up, finished with his examination. "Your parents gave their consent to use a new device in lieu of chemotherapy. Lasers have gotten so accurate these days; it truly is a wonderful thing."
"You'll have to remain in the hospital for a couple of weeks. Your friends and family can come visit you if you want them to," he continued. He called over a nurse. "You'll be moved to a different room, of course, so that you can recover in peace. I'll be around for a little longer, but I have another patient I have to see in a couple days."
The doctor began to talk to the nurse, but Roger was not listening. He wanted to feel relieved, but it would not come for some reason. He was just tired and cold and wanted to go back to sleep. Most of all, he wanted a glass of water.
The doctor departed with a wave at Roger, and then the nurse took over. It was the same weasel. He wondered why he saw him so often, especially when it seemed like they had plenty of workers. It did not really matter to him in the end, he figured. He could feel himself being wheeled over to his new quarters.
He was able to turn his head around from side to side slowly. He could finally see the rest of the hospital, but it did not really help him. All the hallways looked the same except the numbers and signs on the ceiling. Everything was so clean.
He was put into his room, the light was turned on, and the heater was turned up. He was asked if he wanted the TV on, to which he gave a slow, dizzying nod.
"There's a button on the side of your bed, hon," the weasel told him. "Just push it if you need anything."
As he turned to leave, Roger quickly said, although through a strained voice, "I could use a glass of water." He then coughed violently.
The weasel turned his head and looked at him sympathetically. "Of course, sweetie, I'll go get one for you."
And the nurse left.
The TV was unfortunately stuck on the news. As far as the local portion went, nothing seemed to be happening. Somewhere off in the world, however, an underground fighting ring had been uncovered. The images showed a tropical forest on fire. Many individuals were arrested. He never knew such things still existed.
He heard the door open back up. The weasel walked back in with a clear plastic cup of water. He went up to the fox and asked, "Do you need any help drinking it?"
Roger attempted to move his arm, and he was able for the most part to lift it, but barely. He attempted to make a fist with his paw, but it was weak. "Yeah," he said in a whisper. "I'm sorry."
The weasel smiled and said, "Don't you worry about it sweetie." He put a paw under the fox's muzzle to help hold it as he brought the water to the fox's mouth.
Roger blushed a little, and then drank a tiny bit of the water. It was refreshing and immediately helped ease some of the dryness.
The weasel's paw was very soft. It was an odd contrast from Hunter's paws, which were much firmer and rougher from all the football he played. Still, very few had been so close physically, and he felt his face flush, which caused a little soreness to manifest. He choked on a little bit of the water.
The weasel immediately retracted the cup and apologized, "I'm so sorry, hon." He ran into the restroom and grabbed a paper towel, returned and gently wiped away the water that Roger had coughed up. He looked genuinely apologetic and concerned. "You poor thing."
After the initial coughing fit, and after clearing his throat, Roger said, "It's okay. Just went down the wrong tube." His voice was still weak and hoarse, but at least he was able to talk now.
The weasel made sure the fox was okay, and then said, "Well, if you need anything else, just push that button." He turned to leave, but before fully exiting, he hesitated. He turned his head to check to see if the fox was still okay, and then left, concern evident.
"He's nice," Roger thought to himself. He just wanted Hunter to be there with him.
It was already dark out. He had been out for quite a while.
Maybe the next day.