Mindset

[Sensitive themes of illness and child hospitalization]

The nurse told her, "It's the thought that counts," when she placed the basket on her nightstand. Nicole looked at the Easter basket in disgust. Everything was old-fashioned and earth-colored. The brown wicker looked like sticks. It was ugly and full of coloring books she was too old for and stickers she wasn't interested in.

She looked across at her roommate Kayla's Easter basket. It was large, pastel, and beautiful with pinks, blues, and greens and overflowing with candy. Kayla always got the good stuff.

Nicole sneezed from the vapor of the alcohol and saline her nurse used to switch her IV a few minutes before. A sterile, metallic flavor flowed through her veins and coated her mouth. She read somewhere that there were people who could taste words. She figured the tang was what the word 'empty' tasted like.

The constant beep of her heart rate monitor made her want to rip the round plastic leads from her chest and stir up a little drama. But she'd already gotten in trouble for that. Not that hospitals can give you a timeout. Wasn't being hospitalized a form of timeout? Instead, they restricted her television access to just six hours a day. The rest of the time, they wanted her to read. Nicole looked down at the paperback that peeked out from under her pillow in revulsion. It was a 'learning to read' chapter book. Unfortunately, the ward had nothing for anyone older than fifth grade.

Nicole looked up at her IV stand holding a white milk bottle full of healthy fats doctors called lipids and the glowing yellow bag they called electrolytes. The two bags were supposed to give her everything her body needed, but her stomach had other ideas. It rolled with an emptiness that rumbled like thunder and gurgled like an empty bottle shoved underwater.

On the other hand, Kayla didn't even have an IV and was set to go home tomorrow. Her cute black curly wig, dimpled cheeks, and sweet disposition made her the favorite of the ward. Nicole wasn't cute. She was old. The oldest one on the floor. She was thirteen, pimply, and starving. A big honking sign above her bed read NPO, which in doctor jargon meant "Nothing by Mouth." She was enjoying something her doctor called 'bowel rest' and hadn't eaten anything solid in over a month. 

Propped to a sitting position in her bed, she crossed her arms and bit her lip. No one told her she was brave or inspiring. They told Kayla that practically every day. No wonder she was always in a good mood.

Nicole readjusted the neckline of her gown. It was always getting hung up on the tubing of her port. She pushed back her long brown hair and tugged at the strands that always managed to get stuck in the tape that held down the line. Then the battery on her IV machine screamed for attention. Nicole hit the call button and waited. Since she was the oldest, they always took care of everyone else before her. 

She let down the rail and scooted off the side of the bed. Bending to the floor, she grabbed the plug and shoved it into the wall outlet above her bed. Her fingers slid over the IV machine keypad from route memory like an old pro as she typed the code to reset the alarm. The sudden silence caused the tension in her shoulders to relax. She slithered back into the bed, tired and sweaty from the exertion.

The smell from the hallway made her practically drool all over her gown. The salty delight of ham and all the fixings wasn't wasted on Nicole. Her brain and stomach desperately craved what the doctors forbade, solid food. Nicole unwrapped a cube of Strawberry Bubblicious gum, shoved it into her mouth, and pretended it was just as good as the real thing.

Before long, Kayla's family crammed themselves on her side of the room, on her side of the curtain, laughing and talking loudly. A crowd of a dozen aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and parents with the same dark skin, big smiles, and kind brown eyes squeezed into their room. An older grandmotherly voice broke through the din. "She's got a good attitude. That's why she's doing so well. It's all in her mindset."

Another voice, probably an uncle, added, "You'll be home for your birthday. Aren't you excited?"

Sometimes Kayla's family wouldn't all fit on her side. Sometimes they would lean out from the curtain and try to talk to her. She'd grimace and give one-word answers to whatever questions they asked. But most of the time, those accidental visitors were the only ones Nicole saw.

Nicole's family lived out of state, and she got a daily phone call every day at four that never seemed to last long enough. But today was Easter, and everything was worse.

Nicole had reread her book three times by the time Kayla's family finally left. She gritted her teeth every time they visited and then somehow missed them when they were gone.

"Psst, Nicole, are you awake?" Kayla's little voice weakly asked like she was afraid to wake her. It was sweet but silly. Nicole hadn't napped in the middle of the day since kindergarten. Even the hospital couldn't change that.

"I'm awake," Nicole answered back at the closed curtain. She let out an exasperated breath. She could hit the button and ask the nurse to move the curtain so they could see each other or do it herself. Nicole took a deep breath and dragged herself out of bed. She took another surprised breath when she saw her. Kayla's wide brown eyes had sunk into her face.

"Are you feeling okay?" Nicole asked.

Kayla shook her head, and Nicole put her hand on her little forehead. It was burning up. Nicole hit the call button. A staticy voice answered, "What can we do for you, Kayla?"

Kayla's watery eyes looked up at Nicole. Nicole answered for her. "She's got a fever. Come quick."

"I'm cold," Kayla whined, pulling her blanket to her chin. Kayla never whined.

"I'll be right in." the feminine voice answered.

A man too thin for his lab coat and three young blond nurses rushed into the room with a rolling shelving unit full of tools and medicine.

Nicole peeked through her side of the curtain. Kayla looked like she was throwing a temper tantrum. Her arms and legs flailed in the air violently as the adults in the room just watched.

"Do something!" Nicole cried out. 

The doctor had the face of a high schooler and the tired, heavy eyes of someone much older. He focused on Kayla and answered in a voice too calm for Nicole's liking. "We are doing something. We're watching. As long as she stays in bed, she'll be fine. I know it's scary, but she's in the best place to have a seizure."

Nicole's chest and throat tightened, and she choked back tears as she watched Kayla flop around.

When Kayla's movements slowed and stopped, the doctor smiled and nodded to the nurses knowingly. 

The click of high heels from the hallway made the doctor leave Kayla for the door. Standing just outside the front door, he greeted a woman.

"How is she?" the woman asked.

The doctor lowered his voice. "She's taken a turn for the worse. Her fever is high. Higher than I'd like. She was scheduled to go home tomorrow."

The woman's voice sounded more concerned. "That's not happening, obviously."

The male doctor's voice lowered even quieter, and Nicole strained to hear him. "The family wants us to do everything we can to make that happen."

The female doctor made an exasperated sound and then said so quietly Nicole struggled to make out the words. "I guess we should. It's probably her last one."

Last one? The thought took a few moments to take in. A rolling sob shook Nicole's belly, but she struggled to keep it quiet for Kayla's sake.

Nicole stood up and rushed to Kayla's bedside. "What can I do? I want to help."

Billie, the blonde nurse with big child-like cheeks and a broad smile, passed her a washcloth with ice wrapped inside. "Hold this on her head while I go get more ice."

Nicole did as she was told, holding the ice perfectly centered on Kayla's little forehead. The other two nurses smiled at her from the foot of the bed. Jasmine had an elaborate braid that ran along one side of her head and wrapped around her neck. Anna was blonde too and the tallest one with a tight, concerned smile.

"You're doing a good job, Nicole," Anna said.

"Thanks," Nicole looked down at her blue slip-proof socks, surprised by the attention.

Mindset. That's what Kayla's grandma said. Jasmine was whispering something under her breath and held Kayla's foot gently.

Kayla's gaze was somewhere else. The wiggling around probably wore her out. She was still and quiet, somewhere between awake and sleeping.

Nicole had heard the word mindset before but wasn't sure what it meant. If Kayla had a good mindset, she probably didn't have it now. She was somewhere else.

Nicole wondered what she could do to help. There had to be something.

Anna switched out the cold rag with a fresh one, "You getting tired yet?"

Nicole was surprised she had been on her feet as long as she had. "Maybe."

Anna motioned her to sit down, and Nicole passed her the washcloth and climbed back into her own hospital bed.

Nicole saw stars when she tried to look at Kayla's hospital bed.

Kayla's cute curly wig was off, and her pallid bald head was as delicate as a baby's.

Nicole wished she could do something. If she could change her mindset, maybe she could get better. All she could think was this was Kayla's last birthday. Kayla deserved a last birthday with her family.

Nicole whispered under her breath. "If she has to have a fever, let it come to me." She repeated it over and over until she fell asleep.

Hours later, someone shook her awake. 

"How are you feeling?" Anna asked.

Nicole was surprised her teeth were chattering. She was tucked into a pile of blankets. Her whole body was drenched in a hot sweat.

"Your fever is coming down," Anna explained.

"My fever?" Nicole asked.

"Your fever. We've been managing your fever for hours." Anna said.

Nicole's mouth was dry, and her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. "How is Kayla?"

Anna smiled, leaned toward her, and stroked her head. "She went home a few hours ago."

"Mindset," Nicole mumbled.

"Mindset?" Anna asked.

"Mindset. I had my mind set on Kayla going home, and I called the fever to me, so it would stop making her sick."

Anna smiled brightly. "That's not what mindset means."

Nicole bit her chapped lip. "That's what Kayla's grandmother said. Her mindset kept her well, so my mind was set on making her better."

With tears, Anna said, "You thought you willed her to get better?"

Nicole rubbed her eyes, "Yeah. Isn't it the thought that counts?"

Anna kissed the top of her head. "It does."