After five days of being in the hospital, I recovered fully. On my last day, I asked mom and dad if I could see Jazz before we go home since they didn’t let me see him during my stay in the hospital.
They told me to wait for the doctor to arrive and check us out, then I could see Jazz right after.
Moments later, after we checked out, I was so excited to see Jazz in the ICU.
I asked mom and dad to wait for me in the lobby then I went to where Jazz was. When I got to the main door of the ICU, nurses and doctors were rushing in to this particular room.
Suddenly, I felt nervous. It seemed that I can’t contain myself at all. I felt uneasy watching them almost running around.
“Patient’s vital signs are declining,” one doctor said.
“We need assistance here. Call for his resident doctor. We need to check his previous records,” another doctor commanded a nurse.
Everything in that area went crazy. I wanted to squeeze myself to that little crowd gathering around a patient, but something’s pulling me off. I got a little bit scared. I wish it wasn’t Jazz. Oh God, I wish it wasn’t him.
One of the doctors asked for the vital signs and the nurse gave it to him instantly.
Suddenly, I heard a monotonous sound. I leaned my back on the wall of the ICU. Someone has lost his life. I still prayed that it wasn’t Jazz.
The doctors tried to revive the patient by using the defibrillator but they weren’t successful. The area was suddenly filled with a deafening tone, much like of a fax machine, but this one gave me an impact. Then one of the doctors spoke.
“Jazz Alexander Grey, time of death — 8AM.”
I froze, tried to calm myself. Then I rushed to that particular small crowd. I cried, starting to become hysterical.
…to be continued
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