For this story I mixed together and used ALL the prompts! It was inspired by
amber_fire's prompt on my
January Final Friday Fics, the "Wave" prompt for the
2023 February Ficlet Challenge Day 1, and the Fuzzy Blanket/Slippers square of my
February Valentines Bingo Card. 783 words, this belongs to my
RePrint series.
CW: panic attack including physical symptoms.
Miserable Althea has been at RePrint for nearly three weeks when she has her first truly hard day. The morning had been fine, she’d woken up feeling well rested, and everything followed the usual routines. She was looking forward to her family time with Freddie at dinner and considering which games they might play afterwards.
Its during lunch that she makes a miscalculation with her meal tray and sends everything tumbling to the floor. The clatter as serving ware and dishes meet the ground causes Althea to raise her arms over her head and cower down into her chair. It is an instinctive response she doesn’t understand. The memories that should allow her response to make sense were still completely out of reach, softened and tucked away by the RePrint procedure, so she reacts but doesn’t understand her own internal reasoning.
The cowering fear swiftly turns to panic. Althea feels her heart race, her breathing turn shallow and swift, and her hands tremble where she still has them raised overhead. She’s trapped in the chair, waiting for something terrible to happen that she can’t remember, and fighting for every breath.
Althea doesn’t realize it at the time, but she is alone for less than a minute. Nurse Manning is on duty and monitoring their patient the entire time Althea is enjoying her lunch. The Nurse grabs a rescue basket from the trolley outside of Althea’s room, then enters the patient’s space with their usual poise, staying purposefully calm.
“Althea. It’s Nurse Manning. You’re having a panic attack. You’ve had these before, and I want you to remember, if you can, that this will pass.” Their voice is kept low and soothing.
Althea peaks around her arm to see that the Nurse is there. When did they show up? They’re wearing seafoam green scrubs, thick blue glasses, and have their black hair spiked up. Nurse Manning looks like they always have. Nausea swamps Althea, the back of her throat coating itself in an acidic wash, and her stomach roils.
“I’m gonna puke!” she blurts. Nurse Manning is quick with an emesis basin pulled from the basket of rescue supplies, passing it to Althea just in time.
“That’s fine. Try to breathe. I know it feels impossible. After you let a little lunch off the top, try to sit back in your chair. If you can’t take a deep breath right now, just try to remember to release the air in a long “whooooo” ok? I promise it will start to help if you can try it.”
Althea wipes her mouth against the back of her forearm and sets the basin as far away from her as she can reach. Her hands are still shaking. Her breathing is now a hitched breath in, and a wobbly release of two or three seconds. Nurse Manning kneels in front of her, settling the rescue supplies between their legs, and patiently models the deep breathing exercise through the long minutes that pass as waves of panic rock through Althea.
“You’re doing great. Do you want your fleece?”
Althea nods vigorously and looks longingly towards the hospital bed where she’d left her galaxy throw. She hadn’t needed it all day, and had been feeling peculiarly pleased about that, but now she wanted the blanket desperately.
“I’ll grab it. You stay put.” Nurse Manning gets to their feet and rescues Althea’s soft fuzzy blanket. They return to the chair and wrap the throw around Althea’s back, extra plush sherpa lining towards Althea’s skin, and tuck it down over her shoulders and arms. Althea’s fingers clutch in the edges of the blanket, drawing it closed around her entire body like a cloak.
“There you go. Cozy.”
“What the hell just happened to me?” Althea demands.
“It’s alright Althea. Every journey here at RePrint has some rough patches. You might not remember, but I assure you, anxiety attacks are something you experienced before the procedure. They’re significantly reduced by the memory softening, but a sufficient trigger can still bring one on. Remember though, you’ve got good coping skills! I’m here to help remind you to use them. Speaking of – here’s another.” Nurse Manning rummages in the rescue supplies and pulls out a ChillWipe. They crack the pack before drawing out a rapidly cooling moist towelette that smells pleasantly of fresh lavender.
Wiping the soothing cool herbal wipe across her brows and cheeks, Althea takes her first truly free breath since the panic attack started, and feels the hangover start. She feels like she could sleep for a week, and her stomach remains queasy.
“Well that, uh…that sucked.” Althea slumps down into her beautiful blue, black, and purple blanket, and heaves a weepy sigh.