Post by Clara Austin on Jan 8, 2015 1:29:50 GMT -5
The stress that came with the day of an operation was one that you had to experience to truly understand, and while Clara had been through countless operations before, it wasn’t something that got easier with time. But at least Clara’s parents had bothered to show up this time. Though, it was a blessing and a curse, having them there. They could provide a certain comfort that no one else was capable of, but they were also so stressed out themselves that Clara spent a lot of her time with them trying to calm them down as well. As she anxiously waited for the doctors to take her away to the operating room, Clara’s friends (the few she had) came and went, giving her pep talks and wishing her luck.
Clara always thought that part was rather useless considering she would be asleep during the surgery, and any control over the outcome of it was left in the doctors’ hands, and as many times as she heard miraculous stories about the things people saw and heard while under anesthesia, Clara never bought into the idea that there was anything special about them. Every time she had ever been under the blade, she never saw anything, so why would she believe that there was anything special about it? As far as she knew, she would go to sleep and wake up in a massive amount of pain, then stay in post-op for a few days before moving back to her room, and life would proceed as normal. And even if she did imagine anything while she was under, it was just a dream, right? There was no scientific proof that anything else could possibly happen.
But Clara wasn’t worried about going under anymore. She had been the first few times, as the whole process was a bit disorienting, but she’d had eleven surgeries at this point, so she was a pro by now. What she was really worried about was what the doctors might find in the inner depths of her anatomy. The objective was to remove a tumor growing in her leg, but what if there was more to be found? The doctors didn’t deny the fact that there may be more inside than they can see from the endless scans and tests, and Clara wasn’t sure what would happen if there was another tumor, or who knows what else down there. Everyone told her to try not to think about it, but it just kept coming back. It would sit in the back of her mind like a tacky lawn gnome that everyone hated but no one could get rid of.
“Clara Austin?” a nurse with blonde hair tied in a neat bun on the top of her head came in, clipboard pressed tightly against her chest. Clara assumed the nurse had to have been new, since she’d never seen her before, and Clara was on a first name basis with almost every staff member at the hospital at the point.
Clara sat up slightly, raising her eyebrows at the women. “Yes, that’s me,” she said, mentally preparing herself for what was about to happen. She made a last nervous glance at Alec, smiling at him as if to reassure him that she would be all right. The feeling that he was experiencing was one that Clara was all too familiar with. It was a feeling of helplessness, knowing that if anything were to go wrong, there was nothing you could do, but there was more to it than that. Knowing that your best friend could die any moment, yet having to be supportive and hopeful was a lot harder than it seemed, and Alec had always been a lot better at it than she had.
“It’s time,” the nurse said, knowing that Clara knew what she meant. Clara just took a deep breath and laid back against the bed that she was in, letting the nurses surround her and wheel her out of the room and into the operating room.
“Hi Clara,” said a familiar voice, though Clara hadn’t heard it in a long time. Dr. Adair. He had been the first doctor she’d on her first day at Crystal Bay.
Clara smiled, propping herself up a bit when so that she could see him. “I thought Dr. Clarke was doing my surgery,” she said, her eyebrows furrowing to show her confusion.
Dr. Adair nodded. “She was, but something came up, so we had to regroup. I hope you don’t mind,” he explained as he slipped on his latex gloves with a quiet snap.
Clara shook her head. “No, not at all. As long as the job gets done, it doesn’t really matter who does it, right?” she said with a slight laugh. To someone who had never been through this process before, the situation might have seemed unusual, awkward even, but to Clara it was normal.
Dr. Adair let out a small chuckle, then nodded. “I suppose so. Now, I assume you’ve been prepped on what we’ll be doing during the procedure today, yes?”
Clara nodded, and after a few more formalities that they were forced to ask before starting surgery, it was time to get started. Clara could hear the faint sound of Ludovico Einaudi’s Primavera in the background, the same song he’d played the last time he performed surgery on Clara. “You must really like this song, huh Doc?” Clara said with a giggle.
“Why, it’s my favorite,” he said with a smiled. Then he slipped on the anesthesia mask and said, “Now, I need you to lay down and take deep breaths. Count backwards from one hundred in increments of four in your head, and by the time you get to one, you’ll be asleep, okay?” Clara was familiar with the process, and had gotten so good at counting backwards by fours that she could practically do it in her sleep (though she supposed that was the point of the whole action).
Clara nodded, then began. She inhaled slowly, taking a moment to get used to the gas that she was inhaling. Then she started counting. 100, 96, 92, 88, 84, 80, 76, 72....
---
Clara found herself standing in a garden. Nothing but an endless array of roses surrounded her, along with a grey stone bench decorated by swirls and stars that had been carved into the legs and the seat. It took Clara a moment to realize where she was, but when she did her stomach twisted into a million knots. Not just a garden, the garden. The garden she’d first met Emmett in. She hadn’t visited there since the day of Emmett’s funeral, and she didn’t care to. Too many memories.
Looking around, Clara wondered how she had gotten there and more importantly, why? There was no sign of anyone else there, not that there normally was. But all of Clara’s questions were answered by the sound of a familiar voice behind her. “Clara,” said the voice. Clara spun around, and there he was the same way he had been when she’d first laid eyes on him. Emmett sat on the stone bench, his left leg bent and resting on top of his right, his oxygen tank leaning against the bench.
“Emmett,” Clara said, her lips forming a grin across her face as she rushed over to throw her arms around him. “I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered into his ear.
Emmett returned her embrace, smiling just as she was. “I’ve missed you too,” he responded.
“But what’s happening? What are you doing here?” she asked, obviously confused. Part of her was aware that Emmett was dead, but the other part of her simply didn’t care. Was it real? Obviously not. But Clara had been dying to see Emmett for so long, so what did it matter if it was real or not.
Emmett released Clara from the embrace, cupping her face gently. “I’ve come to talk to you. I’ve been watching you, you know?” he said.
Clara giggled. “Because that’s not creepy,” she said.
Emmett laughed. “You know what I mean,” he said. “I know how much losing me has hurt you, but I want you to know that it’s okay to move on.”
Clara’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?” she said. “But I thought you said—“
“I shouldn’t have said that. I was angry at—at everything. It wasn’t fair to you to say that, and I was wrong. I want you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Emmett had told Clara in his last few days that he wanted her to love him forever, and forever meant even after he was dead. Clara had promised him that she would never stop loving him, no matter what happened to the both of them, and she’d kept that promise.
Clara looked down, feeling suddenly upset. “But how am I supposed to get past this?” she asked, as if he held the answer to every question she could have ever wanted to ask.
Smiling at her sympathetically, Emmett said, “You and I both know that you’ve fallen for someone else. And there’s nothing wrong with that, okay? You might always love me, and I know that I’ll always love you. But it’s okay to move on, Clara. I want you to move on. I want you to find love again.”
Clara stared into Emmett’s eyes as if she were searching for some sign that he was lying to her, but she knew that he wasn’t. “I love you,” she said, then she leaned in to kiss him. One last kiss, she thought to herself. Emmett kissed her back, then pulled away after a moment or two.
Standing up, he tilted his oxygen tank on its side and began walking away. “Wait, where are you going?” Clara said frantically. He couldn’t leave. Not yet. She wasn’t ready.
“You can do this. It’s time for me to go. I believe in you, Clary,” he said. No one had ever called her Clary other than him. She missed the nickname. She missed Emmett.
“Wait, no!” Clara exclaimed after him, but it was too late. Emmett was gone.
---
Beep. Beep. Beep. That’s all Clara could hear when she first regained consciousness. Then the sound of people walking in the hallway past her. Then the sound of someone sniffling next to her, like they were crying. One by one, Clara became aware of the environment around her. Eventually her eyes fluttered open, but then squinted back shut at the sight of the fluorescents shining down on her. “She’s awake,” the voice of a young girl exclaimed. Stella. Theo’s voice followed soon after. “Clara! Clara hi!”
Once Clara’s eyes had adjusted to the light, she mustered as much of a smile as she could manage for her siblings. She noticed the fact that she wasn’t in as much pain as she normally was when she woke up from surgery. They must have put her on more pain medications. “Hi guys,” she said quietly, her voice hoarse. She turned her head slightly to see her mother sitting next to her, a tissue in her hand as she wiped at her face. “Oh Mom, don’t cry. I’m fine,” she said. But she didn’t know the worst of it yet.
Dr. Adair came in a moment later. Apparently the blonde haired nurse had been waiting for her to wake up so she could go notify him, but she hadn’t noticed her standing there until that moment. “Clara, I’m glad you’re awake,” he said, a forced smile on his face.
Clara raised an eyebrow at him. “Was there any question that I wouldn’t be?” she asked. How long had she been out? Were they afraid she wasn’t going to wake up? Clara’s stomach twisted as panic gripped her soul, a million questions swirling around her head.
Dr. Adair shook his head. “No, no, of course not,” he said. Clara felt somewhat relieved, but she knew that there was something else going on. “But there were…complications during the operation.”
Clara felt her heart beating in her ears, and it was loud enough that she was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to hear whatever news he had to tell her. “What kind of complications?” she asked hesitantly.
Pursing his lips, Dr. Adair took a step closer to Clara. “The tumor was much larger than we thought it would be, and it wasn’t possible for us to remove it by itself. You see, when tumors are a certain size, certain precautions have to be taken to prevent the tumor from spreading elsewhere in your body—“
Clara wasn’t having this whole “beat around the bush” thing. “Get to the point, Doc,” she said frantically.
Dr. Adair sighed, lifting the sheet up that had originally been covering Clara’s legs. Or leg, as the case now was. “We had to amputate your leg, Clara,” Clara heard Dr. Adair’s words, but she didn’t comprehend them due to the fact that what was once her leg was now a stub that cut off right above where her knee used to be. Her head was spinning, and she felt like she was going to be sick. “No. No, this isn’t happening. This is just a dream,” she muttered to herself, tears coming to her eyes.
Dr. Adair put a hand on her shoulder. “Clara, calm down. You’re going to be alright,” he tried to comfort her, but Clara was in a million different places.
“My leg is gone!” she yelled at him. Clara’s mother stood up and tried to talk to Clara, but everything she heard was gibberish at that point. “No. No. No. This isn’t real. No!”
“Clara. Clara, please,” her mother begged her not to make a scene, but they were past that point by now. Anyone walking past their room in the hallway stopped to watch before the blonde nurse asked them to be on their way.
“I need to see someone,” Clara said, suddenly remembering what had happened while she was in surgery, and all thoughts of her lost limb had vanished for no apparent reason.
“Who?” everyone in the room said in unison, including the twins.
Clara bit her lip. “Tristan,” she said. “I want to see Tristan.”
Clara always thought that part was rather useless considering she would be asleep during the surgery, and any control over the outcome of it was left in the doctors’ hands, and as many times as she heard miraculous stories about the things people saw and heard while under anesthesia, Clara never bought into the idea that there was anything special about them. Every time she had ever been under the blade, she never saw anything, so why would she believe that there was anything special about it? As far as she knew, she would go to sleep and wake up in a massive amount of pain, then stay in post-op for a few days before moving back to her room, and life would proceed as normal. And even if she did imagine anything while she was under, it was just a dream, right? There was no scientific proof that anything else could possibly happen.
But Clara wasn’t worried about going under anymore. She had been the first few times, as the whole process was a bit disorienting, but she’d had eleven surgeries at this point, so she was a pro by now. What she was really worried about was what the doctors might find in the inner depths of her anatomy. The objective was to remove a tumor growing in her leg, but what if there was more to be found? The doctors didn’t deny the fact that there may be more inside than they can see from the endless scans and tests, and Clara wasn’t sure what would happen if there was another tumor, or who knows what else down there. Everyone told her to try not to think about it, but it just kept coming back. It would sit in the back of her mind like a tacky lawn gnome that everyone hated but no one could get rid of.
“Clara Austin?” a nurse with blonde hair tied in a neat bun on the top of her head came in, clipboard pressed tightly against her chest. Clara assumed the nurse had to have been new, since she’d never seen her before, and Clara was on a first name basis with almost every staff member at the hospital at the point.
Clara sat up slightly, raising her eyebrows at the women. “Yes, that’s me,” she said, mentally preparing herself for what was about to happen. She made a last nervous glance at Alec, smiling at him as if to reassure him that she would be all right. The feeling that he was experiencing was one that Clara was all too familiar with. It was a feeling of helplessness, knowing that if anything were to go wrong, there was nothing you could do, but there was more to it than that. Knowing that your best friend could die any moment, yet having to be supportive and hopeful was a lot harder than it seemed, and Alec had always been a lot better at it than she had.
“It’s time,” the nurse said, knowing that Clara knew what she meant. Clara just took a deep breath and laid back against the bed that she was in, letting the nurses surround her and wheel her out of the room and into the operating room.
“Hi Clara,” said a familiar voice, though Clara hadn’t heard it in a long time. Dr. Adair. He had been the first doctor she’d on her first day at Crystal Bay.
Clara smiled, propping herself up a bit when so that she could see him. “I thought Dr. Clarke was doing my surgery,” she said, her eyebrows furrowing to show her confusion.
Dr. Adair nodded. “She was, but something came up, so we had to regroup. I hope you don’t mind,” he explained as he slipped on his latex gloves with a quiet snap.
Clara shook her head. “No, not at all. As long as the job gets done, it doesn’t really matter who does it, right?” she said with a slight laugh. To someone who had never been through this process before, the situation might have seemed unusual, awkward even, but to Clara it was normal.
Dr. Adair let out a small chuckle, then nodded. “I suppose so. Now, I assume you’ve been prepped on what we’ll be doing during the procedure today, yes?”
Clara nodded, and after a few more formalities that they were forced to ask before starting surgery, it was time to get started. Clara could hear the faint sound of Ludovico Einaudi’s Primavera in the background, the same song he’d played the last time he performed surgery on Clara. “You must really like this song, huh Doc?” Clara said with a giggle.
“Why, it’s my favorite,” he said with a smiled. Then he slipped on the anesthesia mask and said, “Now, I need you to lay down and take deep breaths. Count backwards from one hundred in increments of four in your head, and by the time you get to one, you’ll be asleep, okay?” Clara was familiar with the process, and had gotten so good at counting backwards by fours that she could practically do it in her sleep (though she supposed that was the point of the whole action).
Clara nodded, then began. She inhaled slowly, taking a moment to get used to the gas that she was inhaling. Then she started counting. 100, 96, 92, 88, 84, 80, 76, 72....
---
Clara found herself standing in a garden. Nothing but an endless array of roses surrounded her, along with a grey stone bench decorated by swirls and stars that had been carved into the legs and the seat. It took Clara a moment to realize where she was, but when she did her stomach twisted into a million knots. Not just a garden, the garden. The garden she’d first met Emmett in. She hadn’t visited there since the day of Emmett’s funeral, and she didn’t care to. Too many memories.
Looking around, Clara wondered how she had gotten there and more importantly, why? There was no sign of anyone else there, not that there normally was. But all of Clara’s questions were answered by the sound of a familiar voice behind her. “Clara,” said the voice. Clara spun around, and there he was the same way he had been when she’d first laid eyes on him. Emmett sat on the stone bench, his left leg bent and resting on top of his right, his oxygen tank leaning against the bench.
“Emmett,” Clara said, her lips forming a grin across her face as she rushed over to throw her arms around him. “I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered into his ear.
Emmett returned her embrace, smiling just as she was. “I’ve missed you too,” he responded.
“But what’s happening? What are you doing here?” she asked, obviously confused. Part of her was aware that Emmett was dead, but the other part of her simply didn’t care. Was it real? Obviously not. But Clara had been dying to see Emmett for so long, so what did it matter if it was real or not.
Emmett released Clara from the embrace, cupping her face gently. “I’ve come to talk to you. I’ve been watching you, you know?” he said.
Clara giggled. “Because that’s not creepy,” she said.
Emmett laughed. “You know what I mean,” he said. “I know how much losing me has hurt you, but I want you to know that it’s okay to move on.”
Clara’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?” she said. “But I thought you said—“
“I shouldn’t have said that. I was angry at—at everything. It wasn’t fair to you to say that, and I was wrong. I want you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Emmett had told Clara in his last few days that he wanted her to love him forever, and forever meant even after he was dead. Clara had promised him that she would never stop loving him, no matter what happened to the both of them, and she’d kept that promise.
Clara looked down, feeling suddenly upset. “But how am I supposed to get past this?” she asked, as if he held the answer to every question she could have ever wanted to ask.
Smiling at her sympathetically, Emmett said, “You and I both know that you’ve fallen for someone else. And there’s nothing wrong with that, okay? You might always love me, and I know that I’ll always love you. But it’s okay to move on, Clara. I want you to move on. I want you to find love again.”
Clara stared into Emmett’s eyes as if she were searching for some sign that he was lying to her, but she knew that he wasn’t. “I love you,” she said, then she leaned in to kiss him. One last kiss, she thought to herself. Emmett kissed her back, then pulled away after a moment or two.
Standing up, he tilted his oxygen tank on its side and began walking away. “Wait, where are you going?” Clara said frantically. He couldn’t leave. Not yet. She wasn’t ready.
“You can do this. It’s time for me to go. I believe in you, Clary,” he said. No one had ever called her Clary other than him. She missed the nickname. She missed Emmett.
“Wait, no!” Clara exclaimed after him, but it was too late. Emmett was gone.
---
Beep. Beep. Beep. That’s all Clara could hear when she first regained consciousness. Then the sound of people walking in the hallway past her. Then the sound of someone sniffling next to her, like they were crying. One by one, Clara became aware of the environment around her. Eventually her eyes fluttered open, but then squinted back shut at the sight of the fluorescents shining down on her. “She’s awake,” the voice of a young girl exclaimed. Stella. Theo’s voice followed soon after. “Clara! Clara hi!”
Once Clara’s eyes had adjusted to the light, she mustered as much of a smile as she could manage for her siblings. She noticed the fact that she wasn’t in as much pain as she normally was when she woke up from surgery. They must have put her on more pain medications. “Hi guys,” she said quietly, her voice hoarse. She turned her head slightly to see her mother sitting next to her, a tissue in her hand as she wiped at her face. “Oh Mom, don’t cry. I’m fine,” she said. But she didn’t know the worst of it yet.
Dr. Adair came in a moment later. Apparently the blonde haired nurse had been waiting for her to wake up so she could go notify him, but she hadn’t noticed her standing there until that moment. “Clara, I’m glad you’re awake,” he said, a forced smile on his face.
Clara raised an eyebrow at him. “Was there any question that I wouldn’t be?” she asked. How long had she been out? Were they afraid she wasn’t going to wake up? Clara’s stomach twisted as panic gripped her soul, a million questions swirling around her head.
Dr. Adair shook his head. “No, no, of course not,” he said. Clara felt somewhat relieved, but she knew that there was something else going on. “But there were…complications during the operation.”
Clara felt her heart beating in her ears, and it was loud enough that she was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to hear whatever news he had to tell her. “What kind of complications?” she asked hesitantly.
Pursing his lips, Dr. Adair took a step closer to Clara. “The tumor was much larger than we thought it would be, and it wasn’t possible for us to remove it by itself. You see, when tumors are a certain size, certain precautions have to be taken to prevent the tumor from spreading elsewhere in your body—“
Clara wasn’t having this whole “beat around the bush” thing. “Get to the point, Doc,” she said frantically.
Dr. Adair sighed, lifting the sheet up that had originally been covering Clara’s legs. Or leg, as the case now was. “We had to amputate your leg, Clara,” Clara heard Dr. Adair’s words, but she didn’t comprehend them due to the fact that what was once her leg was now a stub that cut off right above where her knee used to be. Her head was spinning, and she felt like she was going to be sick. “No. No, this isn’t happening. This is just a dream,” she muttered to herself, tears coming to her eyes.
Dr. Adair put a hand on her shoulder. “Clara, calm down. You’re going to be alright,” he tried to comfort her, but Clara was in a million different places.
“My leg is gone!” she yelled at him. Clara’s mother stood up and tried to talk to Clara, but everything she heard was gibberish at that point. “No. No. No. This isn’t real. No!”
“Clara. Clara, please,” her mother begged her not to make a scene, but they were past that point by now. Anyone walking past their room in the hallway stopped to watch before the blonde nurse asked them to be on their way.
“I need to see someone,” Clara said, suddenly remembering what had happened while she was in surgery, and all thoughts of her lost limb had vanished for no apparent reason.
“Who?” everyone in the room said in unison, including the twins.
Clara bit her lip. “Tristan,” she said. “I want to see Tristan.”
