Skin Deep by Malaika Rose Stanley

Author:Malaika Rose Stanley
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781409046639
Publisher: Penguin Random House Children's UK

8

Casualty

AM I GOING to die?

I was admitted to the Observation Unit so I could be monitored overnight in case I got worse. The walls were painted in bright primary colours, which might have helped distract a six-year-old from all the tubes and wires but were doing nothing for me.

Am I going to die?

A few hours later, my whole family had gathered round my bed. My eye was still watering, but I managed to squint around at everyone. Dad’s white, rosy-cheeked face was now grey and grim. Mum’s eyes were ringed with red and her brown cheeks were stained white with dried tears. Aunty Esme’s forehead was folded into worried ripples and the corners of Uncle Devon’s mouth drooped into his goatee. Keisha’s bottom lip wobbled uncontrollably. There were notices up all over the place that said patients were only allowed two visitors at a time. I was already up to five and none of the nurses said anything. It was a sure sign that my health was going rapidly downhill.

Am I going to die?

It didn’t matter how many times I asked, no one would answer me.

‘You look exhausted,’ said Mum. ‘I’ll stay, but maybe everyone else should leave you to get an early night and see how you are in the morning, after a sleep.’

An early night is Mum’s answer to everything. If I get a cold, she smears my back and feet with Vicks and tells me to go to bed. If I get period pains, she fills me a hot-water bottle and tells me to go to bed. If she’s really worried, like today, she phones Aunty Esme – and I still end up in bed! Aunty Esme is a nurse. Well, a community midwife, to be exact, but she couldn’t fob me off like everyone else.

Am I going to die?

‘You’ll be fine,’ said Aunty Esme quietly, struggling to keep the cracks out of her voice.

Keisha burst into tears. ‘How do you know?’ she sobbed. ‘Look what happened to Grandad!’

Aunty Esme glared at her daughter. ‘Listen, honey,’ she said, turning and looking at me. ‘Grandad was old. You are fit and young. Lots of people recover from strokes and …’

‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ warned Dr James. ‘Let’s wait till tomorrow when Destiny has been seen by a specialist and had a few more tests.’

‘Who?’ snapped Dad. He sounded really bad-tempered but it was just the stress. ‘What?’

‘Doctor Gopalaswarmi,’ said Dr James. ‘He’s the specialist consultant paediatric neurologist.’

‘And what exactly will Doctor Gopalaswarmi do?’ demanded Dad.

‘He will decide whether Destiny should have a CT or an MRI scan,’ said Dr James. ‘He will make the final diagnosis.’

Am I going to die?

The next day was Saturday. I’d hardly slept and it was still early o’clock when I spotted Dr James and another doctor whispering near the nurses’ station. Dr James had bed hair and big bags under her eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept much either. The other doctor looked like he was dressed for a game of cricket instead of giving a second opinion on my life expectancy.

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