(Esmee) built on sand (mi's side)

You got wires going in,

You got wires coming out of your skin

There’s dried blood on your wrist

Your dried blood on my finger tips.

Wires

Athlete

Built on sand
“I should warn you she is in a bad way.” The nurse said as she stopped outside a door with a sign on it that read in a big childish font, Hi, my name is  Mia and my nurse is Jasper. The whole thing seemed ridicules. Here I was standing outside being told that what I was about to see was horrible and on the door was a chatty style poster making it sound like I was about to walk into any small child’s bedroom in their own house.

“She is being kept sedated for now so she wont be aware and there will be a tube coming from her mouth that is breathing for her. There is also two chest drains and various other drips and things.” The nurse said gently.
“there is someone in there with her all the time at the moment just to monitor her progress. In fact I think it is Jasper right now so he will be able to answer any questions that you have.” the nurse smiled again before opening the door and popping her head round.
“Mia’s family is here to see her if that is OK.” the nurse announced before stepping to one side and letting us in the door, barely waiting before we stepped over the fresh hold before she clicked the door shut behind us.

I squeezed Emmet’s hand tightly as I tried to focus on the bed in front of me. It was Mi, barley, buried under a pile of equipment that come in and out of different patches of skin. From her mouth draping down over her body was a pale blue tube that attached it’s self to a machine that puffed away somewhere to the right of her. This machine was now working as her lungs and with every rhythmic gush of air Mi’s chest rose and fall accordingly. To slow for Mi’s natural breathing pattern which was generally a lot faster and a lot shallower. To alien for it to be a part of her delicate presence.

There where drips in every vain that doctors could get hold of all with dried blood incrusted around the edges. The canules where quick and messy but they did the job. In the A&E there would have been no time for neatness, every second she was sdwn was a second more then she had.

There where two pots on the floor by her bed for her chest tubes both about a third full of a murky liquid and a bag as the out put for her catheter attached it’s self to then end of her bed.
If ever there was to be a picture for an anti suicide campaign here it was. Lying still, non moving, hair messy, bruised, battered, dried blood. Alive but barley even there. A shell of the person that used to belong, more tubes then flesh no personality no nothing.

I flicked my eyes over to the monitor and tried to take in the numbers. It was times like this I wished I didn’t realize what they meant. If I didn’t I could of kept on thinking that the earlier report of “stable” that Emmet had been given over the phone was correct, but I did no what the numbers and pretty flashing lights meant. In reality all the foundations of Mi’s recovery where built on sand at any time everything including her life could slip away.