Chapter 11

Useless, such an underwhelming word for how it can make you feel, seven characters and whatever asshole created English reused all but two letters in the word. The word almost seemed to be created in a rush, like they just wanted to get it over with and not dwell on how it could fuck up an already fucked up day. Anxiety, frustration, pain, anger, exhaustion, and so many other words seemed planed, even just saying the word pain and I could imagine how much I would need to hurt in order to use that word. Useless, it's the marijuana of words, a gateway for other shitty emotions to latch on for the ride. Feeling useless causes you to be anxious, being anxious causes everything to be more frustrating which leads to anger. Anger creates pain for yourself and everyone around you then after the pain you become exhausted without ever doing or accomplishing anything. Then you feel useless again, creating a never ending loop of toxic emotions, all that from a seven letter word that uses only four characters. Useless is more than just a single emotion, it's an abstract state of being. Spelled in such a way that it's tucked away and hidden under the U's in the dictionary, like Webster himself was hoping that the world would just forget it existed and never need to experience it ever again. But you can't hide such a powerful feeling, it slithers and crawls under your skin, forcing you to act on its every whim, and that's how she felt, useless.

She already started to fidget, looking down at her watch its been three minutes since the last time she demanded information about the baby she brought in and already she wanted to go interrogate the nurse for information again. She tried to calm herself, breathing in as the smell of bleach assaulted her nostrils. "Fucking hate hospitals," she said while exhaling the air she was holding in. She checked her watch again and began adding how long she sat in this waiting room. Four hours, twenty-three minutes, fifty-four seconds, and every second felt longer than the last.

Selfish, now, that word sounds as powerful as it is. It wasn't just the waiting that was figuratively killing her, it was the not knowing, and God she wanted to know if the kid was going to be alright, but every second she didn't hear anything meant the kid was still fighting for his life. She wasn't very religious and after watching a mother bash her infant's head into the wall, she doubted she ever would be. She began to fidget again, so she closed her eyes and prayed to someone, something, anything even if she didn't believe in it. She promised everything but her soul if that little guy lived.

"Officer Janko," a doctor in a bland colored scrub with a white lab coat yelled across the waiting room. "Here, I'm right here," Officer Janko yelled back as she popped out of her seat and walked as fast as she could before she could consider it running, as she made her way over to the nurse that called out her name. "How is he," Officer Janko inquired as her body began to tense up. The doctor took a few seconds to carefully select her words, "well," she began, "he will likely survive the night." The doctor's hands rubbed together as she started to describe the operation, "as you know, he suffered major trauma to the brain. The trauma caused the brain to hemorrhage, which caused the brain to swell and push against his skull. We had to call in a neurosurgeon that cut out some of the skin on his head with a scalpel, after removing the skin we had to drill holes into his skull and remove a piece of it to stop the swelling. The operation lasted for about 3 and a half hours, and after that, we began to put the rest of him together. Both hands and an arm are in a cast, his cheek will require reconstructive surgery but that can wait until is ready for it. Now the bad news, because of the brain trauma Darren is in a coma. Now he could wake up in eight hours or eight years or never, we just don't know."

"I understand doctor," Officer Janko concluded, her body was as tense as ever. "If you could email me the medical files so that I could file them with my partner's report that would be helpful," Officer Janko asked as she pulled out her business card and handed it over to the doctor. "Not a problem officer, I'll have it done by the end of my shift," the doctor stated, as she grabbed the business card and slid it into her pocket. "Um, I know I'm not his family but, can I see him," Officer Janko mumbled. "He is still in the ICU, and is being monitored twenty-four-seven, I would try again in a few days." The doctor responded, as Officer Janko nodded and turned away. She thought or at least hoped that once she knew his condition the seven lettered word would stop plaguing her. But as she pushed open the glass doors of the hospital and stepped outside into the fresh air, it clung to her, just beneath the skin.