CASEY MONAHAN - VOLUNTEER

Casey is a neuroscience major at UCLA who has a love for writing. She has been published in the Westwind Journal and Linea Magazine for other works of short fiction.

​Volunteer

It’s my first day volunteering in the hospital, and I’m working in pediatrics since I like kids. The nurse and I walk with a patient and his mother. I’m a little nervous and walk silently while the nurse does the talking. We get to a room and she tells me to wait with them until the doctor arrives. We stand in awkward silence. I don’t know how to talk to them. I have no idea what I’m doing. It’s then that the kid suddenly jerks forward. The kid’s having a seizure. His mom lunges down and catches his head, letting out a screech as she does. She’s holding his head and looking at me. Why is she looking at me? I don’t know what to do. She’s looking at me as if for guidance. I’m just a volunteer. I don’t know what to do. The kid keeps seizing. His eyes are rolled back into his head and he keeps seizing. Why is this lasting so long? Aren’t seizures only supposed to last a few seconds? It’s actually only been a few seconds, maybe less. The mom screams at me to do something. Do what? I’m just a volunteer. I don’t know what to do. A white froth rims the kid’s mouth. The mom’s still giving me that look. Just because I’m in scrubs doesn’t mean I know what to do. The kid bites his tongue. There’s blood now. Oh God, why does there have to be blood? I didn’t volunteer for this. I only volunteered because I want to go to med school. But why do I want to go to med school? I don’t want to deal with blood. I don’t want to see blood. Why did I volunteer for this? I like kids but I don’t want to see them like this. Why is this lasting so long? Why can’t he control his limbs? The kid’s choking on his blood. A sob catches in his mom’s throat. Why couldn’t I just know what to do? His mom moves his head to the side. He starts coughing out blood and saliva. Oh god, and I thought blood was bad. But what should I do? He looks possessed. No wonder they thought that people who had seizures were possessed. Maybe he really is possessed. Why else would he move like that? A doctor walks in but jumps back in surprise at the scene. He takes a second to process. He shouldn’t have taken that second. The kid’s still seizing. He shoots me a look. I should’ve gotten him for help, but I didn’t know what to do. He yells at the nurses for supplies and helps the mom hold the kid down. I shrink into the corner. I didn’t know what to do, and now I’m in the way. The nurses come running in, and I go running out of the room, of the hospital. I run home and decide to never go back. This isn’t what I volunteered for.

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