Fading like an old pair of jeans

Life is not about how fast you run or how high you climb, but how well you bounce.

Vivian Komori


So we waited in the hospital. Forever.

She just lay there looking annoyed.

“I’m sure they will just run some tests. They need to see what caused it. Please be patient. Once they’ve finished I will take you home.”

“How long will that be?”

“No idea. I don’t work here.”

“Don’t tell me they are going to run tests then! Shit. What about work? I am so busy.”

She was always desperate to do a good job. She probably cared too much, giving herself a much harder time over things than any boss would ever do.

“Don’t worry, I’ll call them. It will be fine.”


“No buts. I’ll sort it.”

An older lady poked her head in through the curtain of the cubicle.

“Hi. I’m just here to take some more details from you. A doctor will be along to see you as soon as possible.”

“Can’t I just go?”

“You will need to stay until the doctor has given you the all clear.”

“For goodness sake, I’m fine now.” The woman ignored the comment. She went through the details she had and then disappeared.

“I need to get out of here now. I am fine.”

As she tried to get up, I put my hand on her arm. “You need to get yourself checked. I need to make sure you will be OK. Please.”

She stopped trying to get up and her tone softened.

“I’m fine though.”

“You weren’t. I need to know what happened this morning. What if I hadn’t been there?”

“But you were.”

“And I always will be. But I want to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

We had to wait for ages. I rang her work and of course, they were fine.

“Of course. Thanks for letting me know. Let me know when you know anymore. Tell her not to worry about here.”

I seemed to spend the rest of the morning chasing for an update. Everytime I asked, I was promised the doctor would be on his way. Eventually, around two o’clock in the afternoon, the specialist cane in through the curtain, like the next act of a variety show. He was a small man, dressed in a suit with a huge name badge. He had scarily black hair and small, silver framed glasses. When he smiled he had a gap in the front of his teeth. He shook our hands.

“Hi there I’m Mr Aziz. How are you feeling?”

“Well enough to go home.”

He looked at me. “Well done. I understand you were there this morning?”

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I nodded like I was mute.

He looked at the notes on the clipboard hanging at the end of the bed. “Well, all your tests came back negative.”

“What does that mean?”

“I think what happened to you this morning is nothing more than tiredness. When the body gets overtired, it can behave in strange ways. I understand you have had trouble sleeping over the last few weeks?”

Now she just nodded.

“Well your tests rule out anything too serious.”

And that was that. He made mutterings about less alcohol, more vegetables and a better sleep routine.

She liked to have a drink, eat an occasional carrot and crash when she was tired. I wasn’t sure that was going to change.



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