Affliction

by Daniels, Dottie

  “Can you tell me what’s going on with me now?” I asked while fighting back shivers in between a break of their questioning.

  Dr. Strauss wore reading glasses on but she took them off and blinked her eyes several times while looking up at the ceiling, in my opinion, to get her Lehman’s terms together so maybe I would comprehend.

  “Seanna, you may not understand everything that’s going on, we don’t either. We are in the process of figuring it out,” she started.

  “Who knows, I might,” I replied wearily.

  “Your organs were considered failing before. They were beginning to function well below normal ranges. They are now stable and working at those lower ranges. Everything from your heartbeat to respiration to kidney and liver function has now begun to work at levels that would ordinarily be fatal to every other living human being,” Dr. Strauss said.

  “I was told the same thing earlier. I want to know why I’m an exception,” I said.

  “Science is and always has been slow and steady in its progression. Sometimes it takes months of around the clock work in order to bring minute amounts of significant data. Even then it requires repeated tests to ensure validity. Our lab is looking into the genetic aspects to identify the structure of this virus. Part of our task lies with finding a vaccine since finding a cure is highly unlikely with the amount of damage and decomposition that rapidly takes place in the average infected person. That damage is irreversible unfortunately. You know from your ties to healthcare that most often the answer is in prevention: to protect healthy cells and whole bodies from invasion,” she said as she started becoming more theatrical.

  “I get that, but what about my scenario: ‘Girl gets infected but lives to tell about it?’” I questioned. I managed to spark a reaction from the doctor’s associate.

  “That’s where things get interesting, Seanna. You can look at a globe and pinpoint a hundred labs that are working feverishly to map this thing genetically from beginning to end to find the solution. They all have nothing but samples from dead specimens and live zombies to collect from. Not us though––we’re working with a live survivor, confirmed infected—you—and that puts us ahead of the game. The CDC and WHO can’t even come close,” the man said, speaking up with his sales pitch and opinion of the scenario. I looked for his ID badge because everyone around here had one. He did not.

  “What do you guys think? I have something in my DNA everyone else is missing––that’s why I’m still alive?” I questioned.

  Strauss spoke again, “You’re physically sicker than before but I have my theories. We are trained scientists first. The lab is where we’ll find our answers. Our hope is that we’ll find them before we run out of resources for you. Those medications you’ve been given are quite necessary to prevent further deterioration, which would lead to death and reanimation. We just don’t know at this point. Everything is new. Every perspective explored from this point has never been challenged or documented so there is no official treatment.”

  “I’m on thin ice. Got it,” I replied.

  The rest of the conversation was brief. A few more doom and gloom hypotheses regarding my reaction to their new treatment plan and the fact that even it was “shaky” in its own right. They told me I was the only person so far to have “survived” for this long was going on nine days, including the resuscitation efforts that took place two days ago. I was told by the man the treatment could eventually kill me as well but in any event, my full cooperation was necessary and appreciated. Darn, there were to be no more episodes from me wanting to leave, specifically in the form of me getting up and heading for the front door. Both of them waited on my verbal agreement to that. In return, I had both the doctor’s and her male assistant’s agreement that they would do everything they could to keep me comfortable and seemingly as less confined as possible, provided my symptoms and behavior patterns remained the same.

  It didn’t take long to realize that there was a whole lot of gray area in their promises but it seemed they were accurate when they hinted I had nowhere better to go. Not putting too much on the experimental medicine’s reliability for the long term, for now it was in my best interest to agree. I of course have had many better days but here at least I was still alive. I told them that I wanted to be kept informed about my own progress—good or bad—so that I could come to terms with everything if things took a turn for the worse. It was a little shocking to discuss the very real possibility of the end of my life at such a young age. I suppose in the last week, thousands of those afflicted like me had no opportunity to be so thorough and take their time with such discussion. Some probably died in a few minutes, hours or maybe even within a day but I bet the time was spent in a sorrowful panic with lots of crying and pleading for life before they slipped into their comas and eventually died. After that they were another problem.

  I was in for another surprise, as the two got up from their chairs, when Dr. Strauss looked at her partner and then at my restraints and said, “Should we do it?” He answered, “I think it’ll be okay, right Seanna?” I looked at them both nervously and smiled as they both went to unfasten the restraints. I was so happy that after I slowly got up to recover my balance, I quickly hugged the doctor, which she definitely did not expect. She probably didn’t appreciate the spontaneity but I wasn’t about to worry about it. I was extremely weak and tired as my whole body felt like it wasn’t mine. I quickly assured them that I was okay; slow at first with walking but I could manage. She used her keycard and thumbprint on a reader to let us out of the room. There were two guards behind us as we left the room, walking past a few glass-walled rooms with several people in lab coats working with various machines and the occasional microscope. This time I felt protected instead of being escorted, though I was sure they were watching me closely.

  There was a hallway we passed to our left that was seemingly more solitary and had about half of the amount of lighting as the rest of the area, which appeared not to have any windows whatsoever. There were three or four doors down that way from what I could count in my quick glance. One of the doors vibrated as a slight moan came from the other side. Part of me responded as I got shivers and could feel the hair rise on the back of my neck. My nerves sent shooting tingles down my shoulders and into my fingers and from my neck to my lower spine––all almost instantly at the sound that came from that door down that hallway. I was sure there was some connection. Dr. Strauss had to notice because I saw her quickly look too.

  “What’s down that hallway back there?” I asked as walked few more steps and took a right where there was a short entryway with two sets of security doors.

  “Specimens to take samples from,” she replied as she used her thumbprint and keycard to unlock the first set of doors, which were all metal and quite heavy to pull open.

  The second and last set of doors was even more secure as it required you to be buzzed out by someone who was watching from two video cameras and could hit the switch to allow the doors to be opened. Otherwise, good luck getting out of that area. Past the secured doors was a small foyer with an industrial sized elevator. Judging from what was already in the lab space it was frequently used to get all of the larger equipment and other things down into the area. Once again there was a card scanner, which allowed the elevators to be called and again had to be used in order to select a floor once you were inside. I was familiar with that system from the hospital because they only wanted visitors and patients in certain areas and they had to be accompanied by staff otherwise. We had to be on the lowest basement floor ‘B2’ because there was an additional ‘B1’ followed by the first and second floors. It didn’t take long before the doors opened where sunlight flooded the hallway, presumably morning sun.

  We slowly but purposefully walked back to the same room I was in the last time. Outside of the room by the doorway there was a small cart that contained blood draw supplies. On the top shelf there were collection tubes, tourniquets, and an assortment of different sizes of butterfly
needles, gauze and tape. On the next shelf was the more serious stuff, such as IV bags and saline solution. I was already well acquainted with all of these things from my line of work and seeing it all neatly sectioned off into their own organized bins caused me to remember how I was playfully teased for being so particular about the setup of the supplies in the ambulance I used for my shift. Though some neglected to restock the ambulance at the end of their day like they were required to, I had a “my bus, my rules” approach that made things easier for my shift even though it ticked off my supervisor Barb.

  Once I got settled in again, I decided that I was going to take a long, hot shower. Without much effort Mia, who I was excited to see back on duty, brought me a fresh change of clothes. I said a very happy “Hey there, stranger!” to her but found it odd that all she could muster was an expressionless and monotone, “Hello, Seanna.” She quickly went out of the room and returned a few seconds later with her clipboard of paperwork and oddly enough an In Style magazine that I saw as she whizzed past me.

  I shook my head figuring that her reaction probably had less to do with me than the whole end of humanity scenario in general so I went on my way with turning on the shower water and getting out of my clothes. After all, the world as we knew it was falling apart and every day more and more bodies joined the category of “undead.” Mia said to me with a similar tone that she thought it’d be a good idea to leave the door to the bathroom open while she sat in the living area in case I needed her for anything. Again I noticed the lack of enthusiasm from her. In fact, she didn’t even look at me when she spoke. I know in the day that I met her previously we may not have worked our way up to BFF status but she gave out a much better vibe than what I was getting from her today. I thought that at least she’d be happy I didn’t die or finally turn into one of the dead ones. I liked Mia and thought we got along fairly well. I guess I was the only one. Maybe they told her to not get so attached to me because it was likely I wouldn’t survive and that she should distance herself and prepare for when that time comes. It sounded reasonable to me because it was the truth.

  One thing I was not prepared for at all was my reflection in the mirror. This was the first time I could see my face. I did a double take, blinking several times and leaning in closer for inspection. In all honesty, I looked like a victim of a drowning with the exception of the blood in my eyes. I could recognize myself but it was nothing to be proud of. My reminded me of a call we were dispatched to a few years ago during the Fourth of July holiday. Ronny and I were working mid-shift and considered ourselves lucky because we’d managed to only have four calls that day. One was a rear-end car accident where everyone refused treatment because there were only some minor cuts and scratches so we checked them out and informed them about our release of liability. The second call was for a middle-aged woman who was experiencing chest pains and the third was for a teenager who was skateboarding downtown and decided to try his luck on a stairwell despite the signs prohibiting it. Both got a ride to Lehigh at Cedar Crest but it wouldn’t be hard to guess which one had a broken ankle and still managed to get a ticket from the police. Ronny and I were just short of a high five for the relatively uneventful shift when dispatch called about a possible drowning and rescue efforts for three boaters whose canoe capsized in the Lehigh River. According to reports from dispatch they could’ve been in the water for more than twenty minutes. They found two of the boaters alive but the last one was still missing. We were told to hang out at the initial location of the capsizing because the officers in charge of the rescue, judging from the river depth and flow figured the person would not be too far downstream, given the timeline of events. We waited as the description of the last victim became more and more complete. It first started out as a young female and grew to a nineteen-year-old woman with curly brunette hair, dark tank top and jean shorts. The young woman’s name was Charlotte; all of this was heard over the back and forth chatter of the radio from the police as our radio was on a separate channel. Ronny and I waited nervously with the stretcher, defibrillator, warming blankets and oxygen ready for at least an hour as hope faded for Charlotte’s life. If there was any part available in a miracle, we were all ready to join in. Unfortunately, her time ran out because minutes later, she was found floating face-down near a partially submerged tree less than five hundred feet from where they pulled her two companions out alive. We all still followed protocol: putting her on the stretcher, giving her oxygen and checking for vital signs. It was clear that she was no longer with us as I used my stethoscope to check for the slightest pulse. Her relatives were nearby and we wanted to be sure that every effort had been made to try to save her life. It was still a rescue effort but her cold, graying skin was the most obvious indication.

  It was the same type of skin I saw in the mirror.

  With all of my previous wounds tingling with numbness today than ever before, I carefully peeled off the bandage from my shoulder and revealed a few sutures and some bruising around the area that was about the size of the bottom of a pop can. I was attempting to look at my shoulder backside in the now-fogging mirror and with my newly grayish skin I noticed it looked like the wound belonged to a body on an exam table at the coroner’s office. I stepped into the shower let the water freely run over the wounds without worry. I spent at least twenty or thirty minutes washing my hair, body and just standing there thinking, breathing in the hot steam and hoping it would wash away all the soreness and hurt that overwhelmed me.

  By the time I was done grooming in the bathroom, I had only my wet hair to deal with and after a bit of thought, I had decided I would probe a little in order to find out what was going on with Mia. Once I figured from every angle it couldn’t possibly be me she was upset with, the least I could do for her was lend an ear. After what she’d done for me I owed it to her because I still considered her a friend, if nothing else she was a nice person.

  When she saw I was finished in the bathroom she promptly stood up.

  “I was told that I should order you something light for breakfast. The doctors will be in soon to draw another round of blood from you. I should warn you, they may need urine from you as well,” she said.

  “I’m not too hungry. Is something wrong Mia?” I replied, slipping in the last thing suddenly.

  “I’ll bring you some ginger ale and toast otherwise they will end up putting you on IV nourishment,” she spoke, avoiding my question.

  “I’ll take the toast…” I began to say but was cut off.

  “In the meantime, why don’t you sit down and try to take your mind off of things? I brought you a magazine. It’s one of my favorites. There are some cute summer dresses toward the middle section,” she spoke almost like it was more than a suggestion.

  “Can’t wait to take a look,” I said, confused as she strolled past me saying she’d come back with the soda and toast after it was ready.

  I thought I’d take some time to comb my hair before I tried to get comfortable. The shower helped somewhat as they upgraded my soap since the last time. Before I had some bargain brand that was unscented but this time I could tell it was one of my favorites, Caress in its original scent. I was satisfied before as the soap did its job but the simplicity of a particular smell that I was used to did wonders for my mood. The only vexing thing other than the condition I was dealing with was Mia’s strange mood at the moment. I felt a little dizzy thinking I could move around at my normal pace so I moved slowly and sat on the edge of the bed with my comb in hand and started detangling. I had a selfish moment thinking the only thing I needed now was my professional strength leave-in conditioner.

  Once that task was finished, I walked over to the window to take a look outside. It was still sunny as the late spring warmth was an apparent presence in the growth of the trees and wild bushes nearby. Nearly everything was a brilliant green and although the area was famous for large snowfalls, it was certainly beginning to look as if the warmth was here to stay. I looked over at the radio and CD player, w
hich also had a few CDs stacked next to them. Here was another comforting addition. From the short stack I saw the earlier music of one of my favorite artists so I put it in and turned it up a little so that I could hear it comfortably from my bedside. I walked past the coffee table with the magazine on it from Mia’s suggestion and picked it up to bring to the bed. Again, I couldn’t understand what had Mia so distracted. Perhaps she’d found out where her brother was. Of course she could easily tell me that was what happened. Then again, it could be the condition her brother is in, if they did manage to locate him; I would be in the same mood if it were my brother Junior. No one else seemed to be in such a down mood so I figure things were still okay here at the research facility. As I slowly lay down and pulled the covers over my legs, I felt a slight burning pain in my forearm again and then in my shoulder. It was no surprise because I was simply trying to get comfortable. Eventually, I was able to lie on my right side and thumb through the magazine.

  I didn’t read any articles in particular because my mind was too scattered to focus. Instead, I just thumbed through the pages looking at the different ads and style tips, wondering if they were still valid now and if perhaps they would adjust the color expectations to look appropriate on deceased persons now that they were up and about. It was sad too to see articles that were from a short time ago when everything was arguably okay; in a sense that all of the problems we had then are now infinitesimal compared to the one problem we’re now dealing with. As it miserably appeared now, who would be left alive to solve the problem? I’m sure if the internet were available to me I could go and find a growing list of all the celebrities who were famous for whatever reason that were now amongst the not-so-dearly departed list. In the magazine there were familiar celebrity faces in outfits and on the side an “Own This Look for Less” statement. Finally, I got to the section called “Summer Hotness” where it described the trend for the upcoming warm season. There was nothing spectacular about the first page for the article except that they were expecting this season to be a colorful one, fashion-wise. There were quite a few frilly summer one-piece dresses and a few multi-piece layering tops but nothing super special, though I did see a nice dress with an interesting bohemian pattern I could probably pick up at the local mall in Allentown, if it was ever to open again. It wasn’t until I was three pages into the article that I saw something meant for me. It was a tiny note inconspicuously written off to the side in blue pen: