"Happy Birthday to you, Hana"
Echoes through the corridor of a subconscious, weaving a cacophony of laughter, children running and candle-lit cake.
A blur of colors—a little girl in a powder blue dress, her hair ribbon fluttering as she dashed with unrestrained glee. The abruptness of a single collision: the child and an unknown man, a figure obscured by the haze of memory. What followed after-
Chaos
Dream fragments swirled- a little girl sobbing alone, violins screeching anguish. No matter how desperately Hana stretched to pull that small hand back from the abyss, it was fruitless.
“Hana! Hana, where are you?” The voice, distant and desperate, sliced across the festivities.
The scene shifted.
A vision of the same child now curled into herself, hunched in a corner where the walls met at harsh angles, her small frame trembling, eyes wide with terror.
A single tear escaped from beneath her closed eyelids, tracing a warm path down her cheek as she jolted awake.
Eyelids fluttered open with heart hammering, cheek damp from tears she hastily wiped. The nightmare ringing in her head.
She sighed aloud, “...it’s been too long...”
Squinting at the red digits of her alarm clock, Hana groaned. No point dwelling on thoughts of the past when the first day of the rest of her life now demanded focus - and anxiety.
As if perfectly timed, Hana’s phone lit up with Mira’s personalized ringtone of Shadow by Seventeen blasting a reminder no one could sleep through.
Hana managed a faint smile tapping her cell screen to life, silencing just before Mingyu’s verse.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” Mira’s voice crackled through the phone line; each syllable bundled in optimism.
“First-day nerves? You’re going to be amazing, Hana. Just remember to breathe,” Mira encouraged, without waiting for a response.
Hana’s fingers fumbled with the phone; her movements filled with nervousness. Twirling the pendant of her necklace, “Thanks, Mira. I—I just had that dream again.”
“Ugh, shake it off, babe. Those old memories can’t touch you—not today.” Mira’s voice was a vibrant contrast to the lingering shadows of Hana’s nightmare. “You’re about to start healing people, Hana. Real-life magic. Hold on to that.”
“Okay, yeah. You’re right,” Hana murmured, the familiar weight of worry settling between her brows. She glanced at the silver necklace charm resting against her collarbone.
“Of course. I'm always right,” Mira quipped, her laugh a melodic chime that seemed to dance around Hana’s room.
“Thank you, Mira. Seriously, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Today was her first shift as a newly graduated nurse beginning clinical rotations, and she was grateful for Mira's support
In signature dramatic style, Mira had risen to the occasion of cheering her on before dawn, no doubt after pulling another late night finalizing new artists’ case profiles.
Now only if she had just a sliver of that enthusiasm, Hana thought as she fumbled to make eggs without dropping shells.
“Easy—you’d conquer the world in slightly less fabulous shoes,” Mira teased, her confidence unwavering. “On the topic of shoes, I left you a little surprise on your side of the shoe shelf”
Setting the stove on low heat, Hana briskly makes her way to their shared shoe closet. A brand new pair of white crocs lay perfectly inside its box.
“Mira...“, Her hands traced the border of the box, her phone supported by her shoulders to her ear.
“Hana my dear, Good shoes take you to good places,” Mira declared. “Now go make us all proud.”
“Alright, here goes nothing.” Hana’s voice was barely more than a whisper, her resolve fragile as she ended the call and prepared to face the day.
----------------------------------------
Hana’s focus narrowed on the dummy, her hands mimicking the precise motions of inserting a catheter. Her slender fingers, normally so steady, betrayed her as they trembled slightly. It was a simple procedure—inserting a catheter—but under the weight of her expectations, the task turned into an impossible task.
“Easy,” she whispered to herself, trying to steady her hands. “You’ve done this a hundred times in class.”
But the classroom had never felt this real, this urgent. She glanced around at the other nurses, each absorbed in their tasks and conversations.
Suddenly, the intercom crackled to life, jolting Hana from her concentration.
“Trauma to Bay 4! Trauma to Bay 4!”
The announcement echoed through the room, sending a jolt of adrenaline through her system.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, momentarily causing her to fumble with the catheter. A clatter echoed as she dropped it onto the tray with a bit too much force, drawing a few curious glances from her fellow interns.
She mumbled out a quick but quiet apology as she got herself together from the shock.
“Did you hear about ER’s Head Nurse?” a hushed whisper floated through the room. The voice belonged to a young female intern, his eyes wide with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.
“Dragon Heart. Sorry, Draginheart,” another intern corrected with a suppressed giggle. “They say she’s tough as nails.”
Hana’s stomach clenched as she overheard the conversation. Maybe sticking to the sidelines, remaining unseen until the end of her internship, wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
The silence was shattered by the sudden burst of a door opening. A petite figure, her demeanor radiating an aura of steely resolve, strode into the room. Her fierce gaze scanned the interns, her hands tucked firmly into the pockets of her scrubs.
Heads swivelled as everyone’s attention snapped towards the newcomer. The interns scrambled to their feet, a flurry of movement as they offered their greetings.
The woman did a quick headcount, her sharp eyes missing nothing. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a scalpel.
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Nurse Crystal, a name that seemed at odds with her imposing presence, stood before the assembled interns. Her voice, though stern, lacked the theatrical flair of “Dragonheart.”
“Your first rotation,” she announced, her words clipped and clear, “will be in the ER department. It’s a fast-paced environment, so you need to be sharp and quick on your feet. Under no circumstances do you take any action without my permission. Remember, this isn’t some simulation. These are real people, real emergencies, and every minute counts. Your actions could mean the difference between life and death.”
The air crackled with nervous energy as Nurse Crystal’s stern words echoed through the room. A heavy silence followed, thick with the unspoken weight of responsibility.
Finally, Nurse Crystal cleared her throat. “Any questions?” she inquired, her gaze sweeping over the faces before her.
Receiving no response, she delivered her final command in a voice that brooked no argument. “Let’s begin our rounds.”
The interns stirred, a collective sigh escaping their lips. As the group began to shuffle towards the door, Hana lingered behind, diligently cleaning up the supplies on her assigned table.
The clatter of metal against plastic caught Nurse Crystal’s attention. She turned, her gaze sharp as a scalpel, and fixated on the lone figure still in the room.
“You, at the end of the room,” Nurse Crystal called out, her voice ringing with authority.
Hana froze, a spotlight suddenly cast upon her. The other interns, sensing the impending interrogation, moved out of the way, creating a path for Nurse Crystal’s approach.
As the formidable head nurse drew closer, Hana felt a wave of nervousness wash over her. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her posture and met Nurse Crystal’s gaze head-on.
“Name,” Nurse Crystal demanded, her voice a low rumble.
Hana’s throat constricted. Fumbling slightly, she managed to stammer out, “Sh-Shizumi.”
Her voice, barely a whisper, hung in the tense silence of the room. Nurse Crystal’s unreadable expression gave no hint of what was to come next.
She could sense the sympathetic glances cast her way, but she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, willing herself to become part of the shadow.
“Let’s begin our rounds,” Crystal’s clear, authoritative voice cut through the nervous murmurings of the recruits.
“Keep up, Shizumi,” Crystal said sternly, her eyes faced forward.
Hana trailed behind the group, trying to remember all the procedures and protocols she had crammed into her mind over the past months.
Suddenly, Nurse Crystal stopped at a bedside. An elderly man lay beneath a thin white sheet, his labored breaths rasping through the oxygen mask strapped to his face. His wrinkled brow and pale skin spoke of a life well-lived and nearing its end.
“This is Mr. Thompson,” Nurse Crystal announced, her voice carrying a touch of professional empathy. “He has been admitted due to long term pneumonia. His vitals are unstable, and we’re running tests to confirm the diagnosis.”
A collective intake of breath rippled through the group of interns. Pneumonia, a seemingly simple word, held a terrifying weight in this context.
Then, Nurse Crystal’s gaze landed squarely on Hana. “Shizumi,” she said, her voice sharp, “take Mr. Thompson’s blood pressure.”
Hana’s heart lurched. The unexpected callout sent a jolt through her already taut nerves. Taking blood pressure was a basic nursing skill, one she had practiced countless times in training. But here, in the ER, with the weight of Nurse Crystal’s gaze and a potentially critical patient, the simple task suddenly felt monumental.
Her cheeks flushed with a mix of nervousness and a strange sense of determination. This was it, her first real chance to prove herself. Swallowing hard, Hana forced a smile at Mr. Thompson, her voice barely a whisper as she spoke. “Hello, Mr. Thompson. My name is Hana. I’m a student nurse, and I’m going to take your blood pressure, if that’s alright.”
Just then, the man’s hand reached out, brushing Hana’s arm. His touch was like an electric shock, triggering a cascade of visions that weren’t her own—a birthday party, a little girl, a mother’s scream. Panic seized Hana, suffocating her as the room spun. The man began to hyperventilate, his distress mirroring her internal turmoil.
“Out of the way!” someone shouted, pushing Hana aside as more experienced hands swooped in to assist the struggling patient.
She stumbled back, pressing herself against the cool wall, trying to regain her composure as the medical personnel worked to stabilize the man. Her heart hammered against her ribs, clear in her ears.
In her mind, the echo of her friend’s encouraging words clashed with the stark reality she faced. “Breathe, Hana. Breathe”
“Real-life magic,” she thought bitterly, her wide amber-brown eyes reflecting a tumult of emotions. “If only I could believe that now.”
“Miss Shizumi,” Nurse Crystal’s voice snapped, dragging Hana from her momentary refuge against the sterile hospital wall. She turned to face the head nurse, her delicate frame tensing as she took in the rigid posture and the icy blue gaze that never seemed to waver.
“Y-Yes, Nurse Crystal?” Hana stammered, picking on the skin on her fingertips, an anxious habit that surfaced whenever she faced confrontation.
“Your performance today was unacceptable,” Crystal said, her words clipped, each one landing with the precision of a scalpel’s cut. “This is a hospital, not a playground for indecision or faint-hearted whimsy. If you cannot come to the aid of someone in need, then perhaps you should reconsider your position here.”
Hana’s honeyed tea eyes shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights above. “I’m so sorry, I—I just...” Her throat tightened, choking off her words as she struggled to articulate the chaos that had gripped her mind at that moment.
“Excuses won’t save lives,” Crystal interrupted, her tone softening only marginally. “You need to decide if you’re cut out for this. We can’t have nurses freezing up when it matters most.”
“Understood,” Hana murmured, her apology barely audible, as she fought the urge to let her emotions spill over.
From the side-lines, a tall doctor, clad in blue scrubs with a white coat on top, observed the exchange. His keen eyes, hidden behind clear glasses, now scrutinized the scene with concern as he stood beside the nurse’s station, absentmindedly holding a patient’s chart.
“Dr. Jenkins!” a voice called out urgently, snapping him from his thoughts. “We need you in OR, stat!”
“Right there!” the doctor responded, sparing one last glance at Hana before sprinting toward the operating room.
Hana maintained her gaze on the floor, heads bowed downwards in remorse. She shivered as the air around her felt suddenly colder, the whispers of the other nurse clear in her ears.
“Get yourself together, Miss Shizumi,” Crystal said, her voice receding as she walked away. “I’ll be watching.”
With that, Hana was left alone in the bustling corridor, surrounded by the beep of monitors and the distant murmur of medical staff.
Trembling, Hana slipped into the small storage closet, the scent of antiseptic and linen barely registering as she fumbled for her phone. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, a dull symphony to her disquiet. Her heart pounded in her ears, muting the chaos of the hospital beyond the thin door.
“Hello?” Mira’s voice crackled through the speaker, vibrant even through the digital distortion.
Hana’s voice broke as she spoke, “Mira... I-I don’t think I can do this. The visions... they flooded my head... I couldn’t breathe. Maybe they were right, maybe I’m not cut out for—”
“Stop,” Mira interjected firmly, her tone softened with empathy. “You’ve come too far to let one rough day shatter you.”
“I’m serious, Mira. It was awful,” Hana whispered, the silver charm necklace quivering against her collarbone as she fought back sobs. “I froze, and Nurse Crystal practically told me to quit.”
“Listen to me, Hana,” Mira said, the jingle of her bangles audible as she must have been gesturing with her hands, a habit when she grew passionate. “You have the gentlest hands, the kindest heart. You’re made for this, more than anyone I know.”
“But what if I’m not strong enough?” Hana’s fingers twisted at the ends of her sleek hair, seeking solace in the familiar action.
“Strength isn’t about not having moments of panic or doubt,” Mira’s voice rose like a melody of conviction. “It’s about pushing through them. Remember why you started—remember that little girl who just wanted to heal others?”
Hana closed her eyes, letting Mira’s words wash over her like a balm. She envisioned herself, not as the woman cornered by fear and expectation, but as the healer she yearned to become.
“Every hero has their trials, Hana,” Mira continued. “This is yours. So, what are you going to do? Are you going to let what people say decide your fate, or are you going to show them—and yourself—just how remarkable you truly are?”
The silence that followed was thick with the decision. Hana took a deep breath, her wide-set amber-brown eyes glistening with determination rather than tears.
“You’re right,” she conceded, her voice steadier now. “I can’t give up. Not now.”
“That’s the spirit!” Mira exclaimed; pride evident in her tone. “Now, go back out there. Learn everything you can from the dragon lady. And next time? You’ll be ready.”
“Thanks, Mira. I needed that,” Hana said, a small smile curving her lips.
“Anytime. Now go save some lives, Nurse Shizumi,” Mira teased lightly, the sound of her laughter offering a final note of encouragement before they ended the call.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Hana emerged from the closet, she had sacrificed too much to back down now.
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Hey guys,
I got inspired to write something more adult-like and I am very sceptical about it.
Please leave comments on your thoughts and views. I would love to read all your comments.
Stay healthy and hydrated.
Bye...