Oak Tree and the Sirens

My ears are ringing from the loud ambulance sirens. I was stretching my legs to relieve morning pain. There should be at least two ambulances to make this sound,

I get out of bed and walk toward the window. In front of the A&E building across from the main building – where stable patients stay, there are police cars and, just as I expected, two ambulances. They bring out a patient on a stretcher from one of the ambulances. Even though the distance is far, the seriousness of the situation is clear from the blood on the patient and the doctor’s rushing around.

Before my eyes, a very similar scene begins to form – but this time, my focus isn’t on the doctors but on the sounds. I hear someone’s desperate cries; the agony he or she’s in hurts my throat, but I can’t make out the words.

My thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the arrival of the third ambulance. This time, the alarm in this building – the doctor call alarms – start blaring, and the chaos begins in these halls too.

I feel an urgent need to open the window fully and take a deep breath, but there’s a mechanism that prevents me from doing that. My heart’s still racing; I try to focus on the oak tree between this building and the A&E, and block the anxiety building up inside me.

My room must be on the 2nd or the 3rd floor. If I want to take a long walk in the garden, I need one of the nurses to come with me. I can take the wheelchair, too, but the doctor recommended I not get used to it. My body needs to regain its strength, so someone needs to be there to support me.

“Hey sis.” Arnas’s voice comes from the entry.

I wasn’t expecting him this early, and being lost in my thoughts, I didn’t realise him entering the room.

He reaches me in two steps and hugs me in a sibling awkwardness. He does this on purpose, and every time in a more awkward way – this time he pats me on my head while hugging me with one arm, which makes me smile.

“Are you sure that’s everything? I thought Mom brought you more clothes and your journal.” He asks me while pointing at the bag on the bed.

“She took some of them yesterday; these are the only things left.”

“Oh, OK. Let me take these to the car. Do you need time to get ready?”

“No, I’m good. I just need to go to the toilet and wash my face first. I’ll see you at the doc’s office.”

“Cool, see you there.”

Arnas takes my bag and leaves me on my own. I look at the room I’ve been in for the last three months. It’s been three months since I was in any vehicle!

The cold water brings my nerves back to life. My eyes are sunken, and there are purple circles under them. To be fair, they look better than before.

Outside the room, I find Arnas waiting for me. We go to the doc’s office, and it seems like he’s left it ajar. I mean, he knows that I am leaving today, so he’s probably expecting us. Arnas knocks at the door, and we hear, “Enter.”

Inside, the office looks very bright; there are big windows facing the oak tree. In front of his desk, there are two chairs, so we take our seats.

“Hey Miri, how are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“Well, I hope so; otherwise, we couldn’t let you go. But your results look promising. You shouldn’t have any problem leaving here. How’s your leg?”

“Mornings are the worst. I’ve a lot of pain, but taking the pills and doing the exercises you showed me relieves it a bit. I can walk up to ten minutes without help; I timed myself the other day.”

“That’s good. Some days might be more difficult, but remember what I said—baby steps. We don’t expect you to run tomorrow. If you do the exercises and come for physiotherapy regularly, you should be your best self in half a year.”

“What about her medication?” asks Arnas.

“I’ve written a prescription. It’s not as strong as the ones you were taking in here, but we can’t risk giving you those. I still want you to come for regular checks, maybe once a week for the next four weeks.”

He talks about my healing process a bit more with Arnas, then we leave him with his papers on his desk.

In the short distance I walk towards the car, I take a very long inhale and exhale. Leaving this place feels like being released from a prison of unfamiliar faces and needles. I’ll miss watching the tree, though. It reminded me of the willow tree we had in the garden of our old house.

As we drive back to my family’s house, I feel Arnas checking up on me from time to time to make sure I’m fine. He drives at a moderate speed and very smoothly, so I don’t feel anxious. But there is something on his mind; the way he glances to my side tells me he wants to tell me something and is trying to figure out when the right time is.

“I saw Annie the other day,” he says and takes a brief second before continuing.

“She was in the town centre with her friends; I think Mark and Izzy were there with her too. She looked surprised to see me. I wasn’t sure what to say, but she came over and asked about you. She was in a hurry, so we didn’t talk much, but she knows you’re coming out today.”

“She said it would be nice to gather the old crew and come to see you when you feel any better.”

“The old crew…” I mumble. I’m sure she wasn’t expecting to see Arnas, and she was sure that he would come to me, and decided to throw something nice at him so I’d eat the same lies. But I don’t comment on that, turn my head slightly to the right, and continue watching the road. He takes the hint and doesn’t say a word. I know he is worried about me, and I know he wants me to be my old self.

The “old crew” was nowhere close when I was at the hospital. I learned about them from Arnas every time he visited me. Life changed when I was involved in that accident; they had their lives to continue, while I was stuck between dreams in the hospital.

Where did everything go wrong? I wonder. If I could change one thing, what would that be?

Arnas and I were inseparable when we were kids, but at one point, I decided to continue without him. Being a reporter in war zones pays well—not that I needed the money—but I wanted to explore human life conditions in those places too. Seeing so many deaths and not being affected by it would be a miracle.

“I’m not in the headspace to see them anytime soon, but thanks for telling me,” I reply.

"I'm sorry I let the cat out of the bag. I shouldn't tell them you're coming out of the hospital yet."

"Hey, don't worry about that, it wasn't a big secret anyway. They'd learn eventually, and I need to get over whatever has happened before. I'm glad it happened this early."

He glances at me quickly and squeezes my hand tightly.

“You worry too much, Arny. I’ll get better soon.”

“Just remember I’m here too.”

“Hey, don’t get sentimental on me like Mum.”

“Ouch! That’s not a very nice thing to say to your brother,” he says with a hint of a smile. We don’t talk much about Annie or the others. I appreciate his support and how reliable he is.

He’s supposed to be the younger one, but he’s the one who gives me encouragement and hope. I promise myself to do things differently this time—not sure how, but I know I’ll find a way.