I couldn’t remember how long it had been since we entered the ninth floor. Somebody had covered the elevator area with cartoon animals and landscapes. Not surprising, since all the children’s wards were here.
Funny idea, that: I am still a child for medical purposes.
I was not sick. Not more than usually, anyway. I didn’t need to get an IV drip installed or even change into the patient uniform the first night. There was nothing to do or feel. No guilt or fear, unlike last time — this check-up had been scheduled for along time and served as a simple test to see how my bone marrow was doing. No annoyance, either, because I knew it mattered; but no apprehension of the results, or of the needles. You can never get used to the needles, but you learn to just accept them anyway. There is nothing to be done about them.
Who knows? The result could be something bad. But I know enough not to take this hypothetical seriously before it was anything other than hypothetical.
I slept, and dreamt of vomiting carrots.