I woke after a moment that felt like an eternity. To my right, I could hear the steady beeping of a monitor. When I finally dared to open my eyes, I realized I was lying alone in a white room. My only company was the machine tracking my vital signs.
Shock washed over me again, and I quickly closed my eyes. I tried to remember what had happened. All that remained in my memory was a gunshot, then an explosion… and nothing else. Emptiness.
During this futile effort, the door opened and a nurse entered the room.
"So, you're awake," she said, stepping toward the IV stand. "Just a moment, I'll take care of this."
I watched her reach for a bag filled with clear liquid. In that instant, I grabbed her wrist and said firmly,
"I want to speak to a doctor."
She flinched so sharply she almost lost her balance. I held her steady, keeping her from falling. She looked at me in alarm.
"I have clear instructions to administer sedatives immediately after you wake up," she said. "You were in a serious car accident a few days ago. A concussion and a broken leg."
"No sedatives," I cut her off. "I feel fine, and I want to speak to a doctor. Please, call him."
Though it sounded like a request, I meant it as an order.
She looked confused, but eventually turned on her heel and left the room.
When the door closed behind her, I grabbed my head. It ached slightly. I felt the bandage. That made sense. Still, I had a strong feeling that something was wrong — and that I needed to get out of here.
I looked at my leg. It was in a cast, but it didn't hurt. I decided to remove it. I didn't have a cast saw, of course, and I doubted anyone would willingly take it off for me.
I slid down from the pillows and began smashing my leg against the footboard of the bed. I kept hitting it until the cast started to crack. Eventually, I managed to tear it off completely.
My actions did not go unnoticed.
The door opened again, and the same nurse walked in. Only then did I notice her name badge: Katarína. She stared at me as if I had lost my mind.
"Oh my God, what are you doing?!"
I simply shrugged.
"I want to leave. The cast was in the way. Did you inform the doctor about my request?"
"Yes," she replied irritably. "But you have to understand, it's past midnight. The doctor thought that if he left you alone for a while, you would calm down."
"I understand," I said calmly. "Could you please call him again?"
Without a word, she turned and left the room.
After she was gone, I ripped out the IV that had been pumping that crap into my veins. When I stood up from the bed, the room immediately started spinning, and I had to sit back down.
Alright, I thought. It looks like I'm fine. They must have mixed up my records with another patient.
If I had really been in a car accident, I wouldn't have been able to stand on my leg at all. I might have believed the concussion — the dizziness was proof enough — but it was far more likely caused by standing up too quickly after lying in bed on IVs for so long.
I sat there for another moment before a doctor entered the room.
"Well then, Mr. Ctibor," he said.
Ctibor, I thought. At least now I know my name.
I let him continue.
"You're certainly keeping our new nurse busy," he went on. "Back into bed with you. We'll take care of that cast tomorrow—"
I interrupted him mid-sentence.
"No. I want to leave. Not go back into a vegetative state. Look, nothing hurts. I only felt dizzy because I stood up too quickly."
The doctor shook his head.
"I don't think that's a good idea. Even if you feel well now, it could simply be the aftereffects of waking up and the adrenaline pumping through your system after being on intravenous anesthetics for such a long time."
"Clear and simple," I said. "I want to leave. And you're going to help me."
He smiled at me the way one smiles at a mentally disturbed patient — which, in his eyes, I certainly was. I had no intention of playing games. I stood up. This time, it went much better. The dizziness didn't return.
"Let's go to your office," I added. "I'll sign my discharge papers, and that will be that."