Emergency Echo by George Ivanoff

heard a voice – indistinct, but somehow reassuring.
    She tried to open her eyes, but they felt so heavy, so she gave up.
    There was something soft under her head. A pillow.
    But there were unfamiliar sounds around her along with the familiar voice. A soft beeping. Things being moved about.
    She wasn’t in her own bed.
    Where was she?
    Her left hand felt uncomfortable. She groaned.
    Hospital! Her appendix!
    The voice got louder. It was saying her name.
    She concentrated on opening her eyes until she saw a blurry face staring down at her. The lights were so bright they hurt her eyes. She closed them again.
    â€˜Hello, honey,’ said the voice.
    She blinked her eyes open. It was Grandad’s face and voice.
    Alice wanted to smile, but was too tired. So she closed them again.
    Everything faded away. And then back again.
    Grandad was still talking. She tried to catch the words. Something about home and a party.
    She opened her eyes. Grandad wasn’t quite so blurry anymore. This time Alice managed a little smile.
    â€˜It all went well,’ said Grandad in a low, gentle voice.
    Alice realised how thirsty she was. She tried to swallow, but there was no saliva in her mouth and her throat was like sandpaper.
    â€˜Drink?’ she croaked.
    â€˜Hold on a moment,’ he said and disappeared from view.
    Then he was back with a nurse.
    â€˜Good to see you’re awake,’ said the nurse. ‘How are you feeling? Any nausea?’
    â€˜No,’ answered Alice.
    â€˜Okay, that’s good,’ she said. ‘But I’m afraid we can’t give you anything to drink just yet. Sorry about that. Best we can do are a few ice chips. That’ll help your throat feel better.’
    Alice nodded weakly and closed her eyes.
    A few moments later she felt something cold being pressed against her lips. She parted her lips and little bits of coolness fell into her mouth. She sucked them eagerly. The ice chips melted too quickly and trickled down her throat. It felt good.
    But then a wave of nausea hit. She groaned and screwed her eyes up tighter.
    It passed.
    Everything faded away.
    Then there was Grandad’s voice again, calm and reassuring. Someone was movingabout her. She blinked and opened her eyes to see the nurse.
    â€˜Sorry to disturb you,’ she said, ‘but we need to do obs every thirty minutes.’
    â€˜Obs?’ Alice croaked.
    â€˜Obs is short for “observations”,’ explained the nurse. ‘We need to monitor your heart, blood pressure and temperature, and check your dressing and meds.’ She paused for a moment as she checked the IV. ‘Now, have you passed wind yet?’
    â€˜What?’ Alice was a little taken aback.
    â€˜Have you farted since waking up?’ the nurse clarified.
    â€˜Um … I don’t think so,’ said Alice, slightly embarrassed.
    â€˜I haven’t heard anything,’ Grandad piped up. ‘Or smelled anything.’
    Alice’s face went red.
    â€˜Well, just be aware that we need to know when you do,’ said the nurse. ‘Passing wind is the first sign that your bowels are working properly. We’ll also be eager for you to have a wee soon. And eventually a poo.’
    Alice closed her eyes. She really didn’t want to be thinking about farting and pooing and weeing.
    A little while later the nurse came back to check in on her and raised the end of the hospital bed so that Alice could sit up. Again, she asked about ‘passing wind’. The nurse seemed pleased that Alice’s tummy had been rumbling, even though she still hadn’t farted.
    â€˜How’s your throat?’ she asked.
    â€˜Hurts,’ said Alice.
    â€˜We can fix that now.’ The nurse brought her a lemonade icy-pole.
    Alice sucked on it and smiled. It was the most wonderful thing in the world – cool and sweet and … wonderful.
    â€˜Guess what?’ said Grandad. ‘Your appendix hadn’t