TL;DR

The place is lit with harsh fluorescent bulbs that make every color look too light and skin look too pale. You watch your hands while you flip them this way and that; They appear as if you have jaundice which doesn't help your worry.

They brought you back to your bed almost twenty minutes ago and you're still waiting for the anesthesiologist. Everything feels like it takes days in here. The minutes drag by, unconcerned by you or your plans.

You lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling. It's covered in yellow stars, mess ones. Like they were done by hand.

They were supposed to calm the children who laid in these beds every day, but they didn't help you now. Something about “children's hospitals” had always been distinctly uncomforting to you. Maybe it was the way the nurses still insisted on talking to you like you were five even though you'd be eighteen in hardly two months. Or perhaps it was just the oddly creepy artwork they always seemed to display.

You hear a wail from a crib across the room and you remember suddenly the other reason you hate these places. There are always so many babies- most of them crying. You knit your brows together, frowning. The poor thing.

You clutch the sweatshirt in your arms tighter. It still smells faintly like your boyfriend and the scent does a lot to calm your nerves.

It's nothing serious. Just a routine checkup. There wouldn't even be a real surgery. Just a tiny camera down your throat to check things out. It would only take twenty minutes, they said.

You can't help worrying though. You always worry. And this time you'd experiencing pain. That was never a good sign. You could only hope it was nothing. That's all you could ever do when you came in here. Hope nothing was wrong.

Finally a nurse comes by.

“Hi, honey. I'm just going to put in your IV, okay?” She says.

You just nod.

She grabs your hand and turns it over, looking for a good vein. As she studies the back of your hand and your elbow, you inform her once again that everyone has always had issues with your veins.

“They had to heat them up last time,” You tell her.

“It'll be fine,” she says.

She finds a vein on the back of your hand that she seems to find suitable and starts tapping it. She ties a band below your elbow and grabs a little packet. She takes out the wipe inside and cleans the back of your hand before sliding the needle under your skin.

You don't watch any of this happen of course. You know the drill at this point, well enough to know every step the nurse will take before she does.

You couldn't stand to watch her put the needle in anyway. You had once, by accident. The nurse hadn't warned you before she stuck you and you looked over at just the wrong time, just in time to catch the sight of the needle sinking into your skin. It seemed to cut through it like butter. The vision haunted you on every doctor's visit now.

The needle hurt. You braved a glance and saw that the skin was red all around the needle, except for a spot of white where the needle protruded from your skin. You put your hand back down and looked back at the ceiling.

“How are you doing?”

You look over at your aunt. She's sitting in the chair beside your bed, eyebrows knit in concern. You smile.

“Yeah,” you say. “I'll be glad when this is over and I can eat.” You laugh.

She laughs too. “Oh, I'm sure,” she says.

A woman walks into the room and up to the bed. She has long hair, pulled back into a tight ponytail. She's wearing very dark blue scrubs and a nametag is clipped to her shirt pocket.

She sticks out her hand. “Hi, I'm Angela. I'll be your anesthesiologist today.”

You shake her hand. She smiles and you manage to pull your face into something similar to give her in return.

“We're going to flush your IV, just to make sure it's working. Then we'll give you something to calm you down before we take you back,” she tells you.

You nod. You're glad these doctors actually took you seriously when you told them going under gave you panic attacks.

The nurse takes a needle and squirts it just a little, making sure there's no air in the syringe. Then she slides it into your tube and pushes the plunger.

You feel a chill in your vein and taste saline in your mouth. The nurse picks up another needle and preps it. She pumps it into your IV and you feel yourself start to go numb.

After a moment you can't even seem to move. The room seems fuzzy and everything around you is covered in a haze.

“We're going to go ahead and take you back,” Angela tells you.

You nod, eyes heavily lidded.

She gives you a moment to say goodbye to your aunt before you depart and you hug her. She rubs your back and kisses your forehead and you smile sleepily.

You hardly notice when they move your bed. You doubt you'll remember any of this later.