"Something doesn't feel right," the doctor said, quickly motioning to the nurse.
She hurried to remove the oxygen mask, wiping the blood from my mouth as the doctor leaned closer, pressing his stethoscope against my chest.
His brows furrowed and he ordered,
"Get me a suction unit and prepare a chest X-ray, now!"
The nurse nodded and ran out of the room.
I clutched weakly at the bedsheet, coughing again as the taste of iron filled my mouth. My vision blurred, and I could barely hear their voices anymore, just muffled sounds echoing in my head.
"Stay with me!" the doctor shouted, his voice firm but distant. "Don't close your eyes yet. Can you hear me?"
I wanted to answer, but I couldn't utter a single word. Every breath I took burned in my chest, as though my lungs were tearing apart from the inside.
Why was this happening? I thought I was getting better… It felt like I was getting better.
