I was called into the room soon after I arrived. My dad’s brain surgery had been completed three days ago, and now they were allowing family members to see him. The tumor was around the size of a tennis ball, but I wasn’t focusing on that. I just wanted my dad to be okay again. I had just gotten to the hospital after coming from a crappy day at school. I seemed to have a lot of those. My mom and I walked to the Recovery Ward, also known as Intensive Care. I stood silently next to her as she asked the nurse if there was any way I could go in. The nurse, having already seen me coughing before even acknowledging us, heaved a sigh and handed me a face mask. She must be tired, I thought. The mask she gave me was the kind that dentists wear when they look in your mouth. Funny how, at the time all I could think of was how white it was.

“You will only be allowed a few minutes.” Was all she said.

Then she walked off. Probably to go talk to all the other nurses about the little girl with the cold, who was entering Intensive Care. Great. Mom took me by the hand and began to lead me to his room. I haven’t seen him since he first went into surgery, my dad, which though it was only five days ago, feels like forever ago.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Why do I need to wear this?”

“So that you don’t get your Dad or anyone else here sick. You don’t want to get Dad sick do you?”

I shake my head no. Figures, that one of the most important days of the year, and I get a cold.

I was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t even remember something as basic as the date. I tended to block things out, that didn’t have any immediate or long-term effects on my family’s lives. I didn’t really think about the in-between time, nor did I really care how anything affected me, as long as my family’s was safe and protected from any harm. Lost in thought, I looked up. The doors were the same size as any of the others, but they seemed to grow in front of my eyes. I suddenly felt very small, scared and helpless. I couldn’t do it. Luckily I didn’t have to. Mom did it for me.

“Stand up straight, honey.” It was my mom’s voice that I followed, out of my imagination and back into the real world. I did as I was told. To make it easier, I thought maybe it would be less stressful, and one less child to worry about as long as I did what I was told. If I did get in trouble, I beat myself up over it for a while. I was beginning to miss my imagination. But it would have to wait and take time to relearn how to use it. It seemed like a lot of things were gonna need to take time.

She led me through the doors, and right then I saw him. If I thought the doors were scary, I wires, machines, brackets, staples, and lifeless body were terrifying. I choked down a scream. Of relief that he was alive or of terror I don’t really know. For a moment I thought we had walked into the wrong room, that the man lying idle in the bed wasn’t him. Wasn’t my dad. That he was just another poor man who had gone through a traumatic experience. I thought that I was hallucinating. I saw my grandfather standing next to the bed as he turned around.
I was jarred from the daze to fast. My eyes roved over the sleeping form that was my dad. My dad. With his jokes, and little notes on the fridge. With the giant hugs that could out-do anyone else’s. That was my dad……. just lying there. Why was he just lying there? I thought this as my eyes hit the tubes. They were everywhere, left/right, up/down. But they all went into him. Where they all started, I couldn’t tell you. His head came next. The bandages and the bracket. I started crying. Not many people know what it’s like to see someone you love, someone you’ve known all your life, your rock, to look so lifeless. My chest burned, my eyes stung, and my throat felt like it was on fire. My eyes saw the warm color of his skin. The deep brown. My eyes became traitors. Turncoats to the turmoil inside of me. I was sobbing uncontrollably on the inside. On the outside, tears were streaming silently down my face. I broke into a smile. My heart broke, and burned itself.

“Gia, say something.”

My grandfather was yelling at me. It took me a moment to register this. My head turned almost mechanically in his direction. The smile began to vanish.

“Faiz-”
My mom was trying to stand up for me. And all I could do was just stand there dumbfounded, that my grandfather was yelling at me. Then he stopped. Someone else had spoken. I know that voice.
“Dad leave her alone.”
Quick as lightning, my head whipped back to the bed, and I took an involuntary step forward.
“Hey babes.”
“Hi Daddy.”

I smiled as I spoke. My voice wavered and broke, and my eyes continued to betray me. I looked at his face. Up close it looked the same. His head, however, was not. What I thought were “just bandages” wasn’t the case at all. I saw the staples, the light pink of the blood, and the bracket encasing it all. I wanted to run away screaming. How I managed not to, I’ll never know. He goes for a smile. It comes out as a wince. He never opens his eyes. I smile back even though he can’t see me.

“I’m sorry.”

It comes out as a whisper. I’d give anything to be the one in the bed, instead of you daddy. This is what I thought, but couldn’t say aloud.

“You saved my life, do not apologize.”

The sob I was holding escapes me. He fell back into his sleep. I wonder if he’s dreaming about us. The sobs start to come uncontrollably now. They rack through my body. That’s all I can remember clearly. My mom led me out by then. The important moment gone, I break down. I lean into my mom, and she picks me up and carries me away. The effects of the surgery hasn’t just affected my dad, it has affected my family and I as well. I have grown up, in a matter of months. The little eight year old girl was gone, here was Gia.