The nurses call me Princess Mia, a nickname my aspirin-frazzled brain can barely make out through tinnitus. It's a kind gesture, I suppose, and maybe kind of cute, but I just want them to stop saying it. I want the IV to stop, the monitors to not beep as loudly as they do, or freak out whenever I hold my breath for just a second.
I want to sleep. I want to get away from all these tests, these crying parents, these strangely silent siblings. It's too surreal to handle. I want to sleep.
I want to sleep.
Please, just let me sleep.