get panic

This is just a thing, Hazel, my mom said. Its a thing we can live with. I nodded, and then Alison My Nurse kind of politely made them leave. She asked me if I wanted some ice chips, and I nodded, and then she sat at the bed with me and spooned them into my mouth. So youve been gone a couple days, Alison said. Hmm, whatd you missâ€¦A celebrity did drugs. Politicians disagreed. A different celebrity wore a bikini that revealed a bodily imperfection. A team a sporting event, but another team lost. I smiled. You cant go disappearing on everybody like this, Hazel. You miss too much. More I asked, nodding toward the white Styrofoam cup in her hand. I shouldnt, she said, but Im a rebel. She gave me another plastic spoonful of crushed ice. I mumbled a thankyou. Praise God for good nurses. Getting tired she asked. I nodded. Sleep for a while, she said. Ill try to run interference and give you a couple hours before somebody comes in to check vitals and the like. I said Thanks again. You say thanks a lot in a hospital. I tried to settle into the bed. Youre not gonna ask about your friend she asked. Dont have one, I told her. Well, theres a kid who has hardly left the waiting room since you got here, she said. He hasnt seen me like this, has he No. Family only. I nodded and sank into an aqueous sleep. It would take me six days to get home, six undays of staring at acoustic ceiling tile and watching television and sleeping and pain and wishing for time to pass. I did not see Augustus or anyone other than my parents. My hair looked like a birds nest; my shuffling gait like a dementia patients. I felt a little better each day, though: Each sleep ended to reveal a person who seemed a bit more like me. Sleep fights cancer, Regular Dr. Jim said for the thousandth time as he hovered over me one morning surrounded by a coterie of medical students. Then I am a cancerfighting machine, I told him. That you are, Hazel. Keep resting, and hopefully well get you home soon. On Tuesday, they told me Id go home on Wednesday. On Wednesday, two minimally supervised medical students removed my chest tube, which felt like getting stabbed in reverse and generally didnt go very well, so they decided Id have to stay until Thursday. I was beginning to think that I was the subject of some existentialist experiment in permanently delayed gratification when Dr. Maria showed up on Friday morning, sniffed around me for a minute, and told me I was good to go. So Mom opened her oversize purse to reveal that shed had my Go Home Clothes with her all along. A nurse came in and took out my IV. I felt untethered even though I still had the oxygen tank to carry around with me. I went into the bathroom, took my first shower in a week, got dressed, and when I got out, I was so tired I had to lie down and get my breath. Mom asked, Do you want to see Augustus I guess, I said after a minute. I stood up and shuffled over to one of the molded plastic chairs against the wall, tucking my tank beneath the chair. It wore me out. Dad came back with Augustus a few minutes later. His hair was messy, sweeping down over his forehead. He lit up with a real Augustus Waters Goofy Smile when he saw me, and I couldnt help but smile back. He sat down in the blue fauxleather recliner next to my chair. He leaned in toward me, seemingly incapable of stifling the smile. Mom and Dad left us alone, which felt awkward. I worked hard to meet his eyes, even though they were the kind of pretty thats hard to look at. I missed you, Augustus said. My voice was smaller than I wanted it to be. Thanks for not trying to see me when I looked like hell. To be fair, you still look pretty bad. I laughed. I missed you, too. I just dont want you to seeâ€¦all this. I just want, likeâ€¦It doesnt matter. You dont always get what you want. Is that so he asked. Id always thought the world was a wishgranting factory. Turns out that is not the case, I said. He was so beautiful. He reached for my hand but I shook my head. No, I said quietly. If were gonna hang out, it has to be, like, not that. Okay, he said. Well, I have good news and bad news on the wishgranting front. Okay I said. The bad news is that we obviously cant go to Amsterdam until youre better. The Genies will, however, work their famous magic when youre well enough. Thats the good news No, the good news is that while you were sleeping, Peter Van Houten shared a bit more of his brilliant brain with us. He reached for my hand again, but this time to slip into it a heavily folded sheet of stationery on the letterhead of Peter Van Houten, Novelist Emeritus.