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chronicbeans · 1 year

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Read it and Weep

A "Tales from the Iolite Hospital" Story

TW: Hurt with No Comfort, Shady Contracts, Mentions of Medical Procedures, Medical Diets, Chronic Illness, Hospital Setting/Doctors

I frowned as I entered the room. I already knew what the answer was. The way the gastroenterologist, Dr. Cogsworth, acts doesn't clue me in to anything. He is practically emotionless in the way he acts, which might be due to him being a wind-up man. A large, wind-up key sticks out of his back, gently turning as he admits tiny click, click, clicks each second, as well as gentle music, much like that of an antique music box.

He turns to me, saying "Well, Aluminum... there isn't much I can do besides put you on that diet. Remember, the one where you avoid foods that end up triggering the response?" I groan in frustration "That one? The one where I don't know what even causes it? The one where it is far too late to avoid the response because I need to WAIT for it to know what to avoid? I like to call that the "Minefield Diet", doctor. It is as anxiety and panic inducing as walking through a minefield."

He tilts his head, his face as empty as usual. "It is the best I can do. The 6-food elimination diet is too costly. I want to use the amino acid-based diet as a final resort, due to most patients requiring a nasogastric feeding tube due to the taste. I will be sure to call in a prescription for the dupilumab, though, since it has been proven effective in the treatment of eosinophilic esophagitis, so far."

I shake my head, glaring at him "What about those allergy tests you asked the allergist about? Will I be getting them? They aren't fully effective, but I heard the skin prick tests can be useful sometimes." He shakes his head "I haven't gotten a response. I believe you will not be getting those tests done. They are not too effective, anyways." I point to him, asking "Can't I just change you out and get a new doctor?"

He grows silent, besides the gentle music and the ticking clicks from within him. He then turns back to his desk, stiffly moving as he checks his files. He then pulls out a contract, the one my father made me sign when I first entered the Iolite Hospital at age 16. That was around... 11 years ago.

He hands it to me, saying in his robotic tone "Read it and weep. He made the decision for you." I read the contract, my various eyes widening.

"The patient hereby consents to stay with both the Iolite Hospital and the doctor provided below the signature line until either the patient or doctor dies. This is to ensure the healthcare provider knows everything about the patient here, in the Iolite Hospital, so there can provide adequate care. The reasons for the provided doctor being chosen shall be shown underneath his/her/their/etc. name.

Signature of Parent/Guardian (If patient is under the age of 18) and relation to the patient: Uranium Sight (Father)

Signature of Patient: Aluminum Sight

Doctor Provided: Dr. Victor Cogsworth (GI Specialist)

Reason for Choice: Dr. Victor Cogsworth is the only GI Specialist in the Iolite Hospital with knowledge on Eosinophilic Esophagitis (EoE or EE). He is trained in endoscopy and dilation procedures, as well as other surgical procedures of the gastrointestinal system. Due to these reasons, we feel he is the only doctor who is able to provide proper care for the patient, due to the diagnosis."

I look up to him, his empty eyes locked onto me. My father's voice floats through my head, the words from that day - the last day I saw him and the outside world - echo in my mind. "This is for your own good, boy." I feel sick. I want out, or at least a different doctor, but my father has locked me here. I had no choice in this, much like I had no choice in having a chronic illness in the first place.

"This has to be illegal! This isn't allowed-" He cuts me off by suddenly leaning forward, close to my face. He speaks lowly, the robotic tone sounding colder than ever. "Haven't you noticed how the Iolite Hospital does a lot of strange, abnormal, and illegal things? Like leaving the patients who suffer from addiction to fend for themselves in the Hall of Addiction? Forcefully keeping patients here and tied to a specific doctor isn't close to the worse thing this place has done."

He slowly returns to a standing position in a smooth motion, almost as if spending no energy to do so. "This place... it has rules of its own. Almost like it has a life of its own, compared to other hospitals and healthcare facilities. The play area, the pools, the halls, and the halls themselves are abnormal and unorthodox for a hospital." A tilt of his head cues me to think. It is odd, yes, how this place works.

"You are my patient, and mine, alone. In fact, you are only the second patient I have had with EoE. The first was a little girl, around 7. She didn't do so well, here. I don't know where she went. You will be a fine experiment for me. I will treat you better."

I stand, simply saying "You are a monster. An emotionless monster. A machine. You don't know how to treat people well." His head snaps back to a straight position, the music in his chest slowing as he says "That hurts. I have emotions. You will understand, soon."

I turn, leaving his office. I feel so sick and anxious, like I might puke if I keep dwelling on the fact that I am stuck with HIM in HERE for the rest of my life. He won't die anytime soon. I know that. It has been 11 years since I first met him, and in all that time, he hasn't aged a day. I will have to wait until I am gone to be rid of him. It isn't even either of our faults, however, as my own father was who signed the contract, forcing me to sign with him.

As I thought, my dwelling has made my stomach churn too much, and I run to the nearest bucket to empty the contents of my stomach. Nobody really seems to do anything. All of the nurses, doctors, and even my fellow patients just waltz by, going about their days as usual.

Once I am done, I look around, finding that Derek has begun to approach me. I don't want him to see me like this, so I hurry off to my room before he can finish writing his words down on his paper. I lock myself into an even smaller cell than this hospital, called my patient room, and sit in silence. I hear him knocking on my door. I just wait until he leaves. I am in no mood to talk to anyone. I'll just keep it inside.

#my original story #my original stories #my ocs #Tales from the Iolite Hospital

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chronicbeans · 1 year

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They don't tell Stories About People like Me

A "Tales from the Iolite Hospital" Short

TW: Chronic Illness, Feelings of Loneliness, Hospital Settings, Feelings of not being Represented, Descriptions of Medical Procedures, Brief mention of Unhealthy Eating Habits/Cibophobia (Fear of Food)

I hear a loud, horrible scream of frustration from the recreation room. I run over, my eyes widening as I see Aluminum, flipping through books on the bookshelf, before letting out a groan of frustration as he tosses them to the floor. Then, he goes on to the next book and does the same. Then the next. Then the next. Then the next...

I see the other patients walking in, looks of concern on their faces. One of them, a 60 year old man named Carson Donner, gently says "It is alright, Aluminum. I'm sure that-" "IT IS NOT ALRIGHT, CARSON!" Everybody takes a step back from his sudden outburst. "I... I can't see myself in any of these stories. The doctors keep telling me that they will find more stories about chronic illness... From asthma, to scoliosis... You all have stories with characters that have your conditions... But I still haven't found one with my own."

I see a few of the others look frustrated, one of them muttering "He always does this. No representation is better than bad representation." It seems like he heard their words, as he points in their general direction, then snaps "I don't care at this point! I can't take it anymore! I feel so alone! Nobody understands me!" He pulls at his bright orange locks, continuing his ranting "I see plenty of representation for food allergies, but that's not how my condition works! Only my esophagus closed, not my airways! My face doesn't go red and swollen! I can't even get solace in the representation of food allergies, because it isn't the same! If feels like I'm the only one! Just me! Just poor little Aluminum against a world full of people who don't know how to act around me!"

I nervously take a step closer to my dismayed friend, causing him to look up at me, before pointing his finger in my direction, next. "I see people with mutism, like you!" He then points to another person "I see people with epilepsy, like you!" He goes through the crowd, his voice slowly breaking as he slows down. By the end, he is in tears, the eyes on his patient dark blue gown leaking tears. I didn't even know they can do that. It looks like someone poured a bucket of water on him.

"I see everyone but me. I... I know I shouldn't feel so jealous of any of you. I am happy that you are all being seen by the media. We are all in the same boat, here. We all have chronic illnesses, which no normal person should want any of them... I most certainly hate mine. I just can't help but wish that someone would be able to see me..."

He turns his head towards me, saying "They don't tell Stories about people like me, Derek. What is there to tell about me? Small man avoids food because he is too scared of choking or having an allergic reaction because THE DOCTORS can't figure out what he is allergic to through allergy tests? Small man is short and small because he avoids food? Small man has uncomfortable reaction to a pear, but is unable to properly figure out if it was a pear or something he ate earlier that day, or even yesterday, because his illness can't have allergic reactions be that delayed? Small man's doctors chicken out of performing an upper endoscopy due to his esophagus being so narrow, the smallest endoscopes they have won't fit, and they fear ripping it open if they widen it? Tell me, Derek, what type of story would someone tell about me?"

I think for a moment, before writing down my answer in my notebook. I turn it to him, watching as his face curls into a look of confliction. Mr. Donner decides to read out the note, so everybody can hear my answer.

"A story about frustration and fear. One that only you can tell."

#my original story #my ocs #Tales from the Iolite Hospital

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chronicbeans · 1 year

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Here are some doodles I did in an hour, I apologize for messing up Maya but I have no clue how to draw young people, please forgive me beans 🙏🙏

OMFG THIS IS SO COOL! Maya looks so adorable in your style!

This was all in an hour, too?! Like, my art takes less time than that, but it is very basic compared to yours! I love it so much, thank you!!!

#Tales from the Iolite Hospital #Fanart #my ocs are my babies #i love this so muuuuuch

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chronicbeans · 1 year

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excuse me but do you have any character descriptions or art for your lolite hospital ocs? I want to draw fanart for you 👉👈

OMG OF COURSE I DO! Yippee!!! I don't have any colored pictures, but I will try to describe the colors for you. I just don't really like my own coloring, atm, but I will also try to post colored pictures, soon! As a little bonus, I will even show some characters I haven't written for, yet! OwO I will put a bit of information about them alongside their descriptions, hence the trigger warnings.

TW: Binge Eating Mentions, Alice in Wonderland Syndrome, Religious Figures

^I already drew Aluminum and Derek, so I will link it here. If you need more pictures of these two, just ask! Derek is pink and white, due to being a strawberry cow. His nose is pink with little black spots, and his nose ring changes colors, so just pick whatever you want. Aluminum is pale, skinny, and has blue freckles on his face. He also has purple freckles on his shoulders, magenta freckles on his stomach around his belly button, and red on the sides of his thighs, but they are usually covered by his patient gown, which he draws numerous eyes on in order to be able to see. The freckles would only really be visible if he changed into something else, probably after escaping the hospital. He also wears those gripping socks, which make their way up to his mid-calf.

^This is Dr. Victor Cogsworth, Aluminum's GI doctor. His eyes are green, and glow in the dark, allowing him to work a bit like a flashlight during power outages. His hair is black, with a white streak on the upper left side. His key, which winds him up, is gold and rests in his upper back. It is also removable. He tends to wear collared, button up shirts, ties, and dress pants alongside dress shoes. His lab coat is white, and is ends at his knees.

Now for the bonus characters!

^This here is Father Cosmos, who goes by it/its. Its skin has a sort of black, blue, purple galaxy patters, which moves around a bit like liquid full of glitter, so it never stays exactly the same. Its eyes are a bit like black and white planets, in that the iris and pupil will be the same, looking like Saturn with its rings, with the right eye being black with white sclera (the part of your eye that is usually white) and the other being white with black sclera. The mouth on its chest eats, and has two rows of teeth, while the mouth on its face is for talking. Its hair is white, and around its head is a little set of planets that change constantly. It almost never takes its cassock off, nor its clerical collar, due to it being the only one in its community who wishes to spread the word of the religions of the mythical humans, alongside its friends, who are a rabbi, Imam, and swamis. It isn't in the hospital, but often visits the religious patients, and it and Dr. Cogsworth often meet outside the hospital at restaurants to have lessons on how to identify feelings. Dr. Cogsworth also talks to Father Cosmos about its binge eating, where it ensures him that it is going to therapy.

^The last character, who I just started designing, is Maya! She is only five, having just been admitted for a chronic case of Alice in Wonderland Syndrome (which I will talk more about in her short story). Her 'eyebrows' are actually an extra set of eyes. When they are closed, they are black, but when opened, they match her dark brown eye color. She has dark skin, with a natural grey afro. She has a fluffy grey shark tail, as well as a set of gills on her neck. Her patient gown is covered in bunnies, with other sets being covered in different animals. Her gripping socks are pink, going up to her knees.

#Tales from the Iolite Hospital #passion project #Chronic illness awareness #my sketches #My stories #My OCs #my ocs are my babies

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chronicbeans · 1 year

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I have so many freaking ideas for "Tales from the Iolite Hospital" I want to write down that it is killing me lol.

I'ma make some drafts then maybe post some pics for it. Lol. Nobody really reads them but I just love making it. OwO Which I think is the best part of writing.

#Tales from the Iolite Hospital #my sketches #my stories #my OCs #my ocs are my babies

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chronicbeans · 1 year

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Here's some Aluminum and Derek sketches! OwO

Again, traditional art, so idk if the quality will be the best! Here y'all go, though! I might end up finishing and coloring them in one day!

^Derek Straws! He's a "strawberry cow", so he is pink and white. I am still designing him, but this is what I got, so far. His kind are naturally tall, so he is around 8 feet tall.

^Aluminum! Yippee! My smol bean! I have had his design for a few years, now, but these are my best sketches on the page. He is really short (only 5 ft tall) compared to Derek. That isn't really normal for his kind, though, and is caused by his difficulties eating.

I plan to start designing the other characters, which I might post on this blog, too! Yippee! For now, I'll just call this story Tales from the Iolite Hospital. If anybody has any questions about it, I'll be happy to answer! OwO

#my original story #my ocs #Tales from the Iolite Hospital #smol bean

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chronicbeans · 1 year

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If you are in the mood to write. I’d like an update on the illustrator one or anything your heart wants to write . I just love your writing and you inspired me to write.

Okay! I'll write something original down, simply because all of the fanfiction that I write is meant to work as a practice for a possible career in making original stories! OwO my main goal is to try to bring awareness to chronic illness, so I'll make this one based on one of those ideas.

Meeting Aluminum

TW: Chronic Illness, Hospital Settings, Mentions of Medical Procedures

It was so odd when I first woke up here. This large, looming hospital covered in off pinks, purples, and whites. The grass beneath me was red, instead of green, and the leaves on the trees were green. The hospital itself looked much more like a mansion. In fact, I wouldn't have known it was a hospital if it weren't for the sign on the front.

"The Iolite Hospital for the Mentally and Physically Unwell - We will keep you Here for as Long as You" the rest was scribbled out, before someone wrote "ARE SICK" to replace whatever was originally said.

I was then found by two odd men in white coats. One had no eyes, but seemed to see through an eye on his necktie. The other had four eyes on his face. The two of them tried speaking to me, which didn't work. I can't talk, unfortunately. I can only write down my words. The one with no eyes turned to the other, whispering to him. I could make out only a little. "Mute... Probable long-term... Yes, long stay."

I was then brought into the cafeteria, which is where I am now. They had given me a notebook before I got here. I look around, too nervous to sit with others, but there are no empty seats. I hear some talk about one of the many patients, as well as people turning to look at him for a few seconds, before quickly turning back to their groups.

"Did you hear about Aluminum? They say he's going to be a long-term patient. Possibly lifetime patient!" "I heard the doctor backed out of his endoscopy when they saw how narrow it was. Can't believe it got back to being that bad within just a year." "I heard his family is glad they won't have to deal with him anymore." "Well, I heard they never took care of him in the first place."

I look to the man everyone is looking at. He is sitting all alone, picking at his food. He seems to be like one of the men outside, as in, he has no eyes. Unlike that man, he seems to see through the various eyes he's scribbled onto his hospital gown with black marker. He can probably see everyone who is talking about him from the literal eyes on his back. That doesn't even account for how loud they are. His skin is a pale peach, with his cheeks dotted with blue freckles. The most notable part is his full head of orange, curly hair, and the two white wings floating above it. They seem to bop and bob as he moves his head from side to side, fluttering whenever he swallows the food he is eating.

I decide to walk over and sit with him. In part due to his table having the least people, as well as to just keep him company. I sit next to him, taking a few bites of my food, before picking up my notebook. He turns his face up to me, as if he only just noticed that I sat next to him. I turn the page to face him. He softly mutters to himself, reading aloud. "'Hello, my name is Derek. I'm sorry, I can't talk. I hope the others aren't getting to you'... Hey, Derek. It's alright. No need to apologize. The others are rather loud, but I'm used to it. They marvel at the other... Ahem... "Long-term patients", too. They can't seem to understand the meaning of a lifelong illness."

I write again, before turning it to him. "'Sorry to hear that. I heard I might be a long-term patient, too. Can we be friends?' Umm... sure? Just know that I tend to vent, alot. Most of the others do, too. I guess it is a mutual understanding that venting about our frustration at the doctors here is a good thing for our mental health. They don't have psychologists or psychiatrists here. Not even a therapist. Well, they have physical therapists, respiratory therapists... just not MENTAL HEALTH therapists. So, there isn't anyone else to talk to, besides each other. You get me?" I nod. "Good. I guess, since we are friends, I might as well show you the ropes of this place..."

#original story #my ocs #Tales from the Iolite Hospital

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chronicbeans · 1 year

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1000 Follower Special! Checking into the Iolite Hospital!

I didn't know what to do and someone mentioned liking my story, so here you go! It has a little twist at the end, tying into one of my other stories. Yippee!

TW: Hospital Setting/Doctors, Chronic Illness, Mentions of Death/Nihilism, Derealization, Escapism

You open your eyes, feeling a wave of dizziness and vertigo hit you. The world seems to be moving and spinning as you sit up. Looking beneath you, you realize that the grass, which used to be an unnatural green tone, is now a crimson red. Before you sits a large mansion or manor, that says "Iolite Hospital" on the front. You can even see what looks to be the edge of a large playground in the backyard...

Since it seems to be the only place nearby, you decide to approach and enter it, intending to ask for help. You don't know how to got here, but you were not in the... Best situation beforehand. You want directions to get home. To be free.

Entering, you see a large waiting room, filled with the strangest of people. People with floating eyes for heads, people with no eyes, and even people with animal features. The person at the front desk has a red, rotary phone for a head, which they are currently using to talk to someone.

"No, Jessie! I am NOT free this Saturday! I am, in fact, very busy-!" They cut themselves off, their phone head turning a bit more towards you. "Jessie... I need to call you later... Something has happened." They place the handset on the place where it rests, asking "Are you... A human...?"

You look around, seeing that everyone is staring at you. You slowly say "Umm... yes?" The phone headed person stands up, saying "Oh... oh my stars... I need to call someone. Sit right over there! Dr. Cogsworth will come get you!" They then dial something on their head, speaking on the phone with someone.

Sitting down in the waiting room, a large portrait catches your eye. A person, almost human looking, stares at you. They look completely white, with long white hair that reaches their knees, paper white skin and eyebrows... even their clothes are white. The only color seems to be their eyes, which are a glittering purple, and a crack in their face, revealing iolite inside of them. Almost like a human geode. The plaque at the bottom reads "Our Founder, Dr. Pierce Iolite".

This place seems like a dream. Everything... looks fuzzy in a sense. Like a foggy television screen, or trying to remember a dream, but failing. It all just seems fake. From the strange creatures around you, to the strange aura the hospital gives off.

The sounds of robotic clicks and the chiming of a music box approach, before a door opens. A most peculiar man enters the room, asking "I heard there is a human? I am here to help you. Where are you?" He looks around, before his glowing green eyes spot you. "Human."

You swallow thickly, staring at the large, winding key on his back, subconsciously saying "Yes... I am a human." Then, you stand and follow him. There isn't much else to do and he seems like a doctor. He can help, maybe. Doctors are smart!

As the both of you walk down the hallway, you hear the sounds of singing from down one of the halls, followed by a loud "Nothing matters, so who cares if your life is a waste!" then, the crashing of a bunch of items to the floor. As if reading your mind, the music box man says "That is the mortuary ward. Baxter, to be specific. He is... eccentric."

Ascending through an elevator, you finally ask "Where are you taking me? Can you help me?" He is silent, looking down at you. He then speaks, in the most monotonous voice ever "You wish to get away from the neighborhood, don't you?"

You let out a soft gasp from shock. Looking around, you see that you have made it to a floor called "C-Floor". The man continues "I am Dr. Cogsworth. I have been created to replicate humans. You are a human. I am meant to replicate you. There is no need to be afraid. I am, specifically, the head gastroenterologist of this hospital. I am helping you, simply because I have the most knowledge of humans."

Then, his cold, cold hand takes your own. Leading you into a room labeled "Playroom", you see a place right out of a nostalgic, eerie, and childish dream. There are those colorful play place tubes, slides, and even a ball pit. At the edge of the room, you see a man with curly bright orange hair staring at a television set. His patient gown has numerous eyes scribbled on with black marker. A pair of white wings flutter about his head.

He turns, his pale, eyeless face covered in blue freckles and a pink pacifier in his mouth. He takes it out, chirping in a childish tone of voice, despite the fact that his voice not sounding like a child's, at all. "New friend! Come on! The show is about to start! I haven't had a watch buddy in a while! I can share my chikin nuggies with you! They are dino nuggies!!"

Looking up to Dr. Cogsworth, he nods, gesturing for you to apporach. "You will know how I know your situation. Just watch." With no other choice, you approach the TV. The man hands you a plate of dino nuggets, alongside a carton of strawberry milk.

The show starts. The words "WELCOME HOME" flash onscreen.

Then, HE shows up. Wally Darling.

He quickly begins pounding his fist against the screen, crying out "(Y/N)!!! MY PUPPETEER!!! COME BACK!!! I LOVE YOU!!!"

The eyeless man laughs, pointing at you "He thinks you're (Y/N)! How cute! I love this show! Wally is so strange! Hehehe!"

The clicking of Dr. Cogsworth's gears approaches, before he says "Come with me to my office. We must speak of your care plan. You will be staying here for a long, long time." "I want to go home..." "There is no way home. The hospital has chosen you as a patient." "I want to go home..." "This place is better than being with him, right?"

You look back to the screen, seeing Wally looking at you with desperation in his eyes. His permanent smile seems to be straining, as if trying to frown but not being able to. He has caused you such misery... when the show stopped airing, and you weren't able to see Henry or Angela again, it became so much worse. To think, the show actually survived in this little... world? Dimension? Reality?

You look back up to the doctor, tears flowing down your face. "I guess so..."

"Then I am proud to welcome you to the Iolite Hospital, where you shall stay for as long as you are sick. In your case, I guess, you are staying here for a sense of escapism from your reality. I hope our services can provide that for you."

#Tales from the Iolite Hospital #1000 follower special #Welcome Home #My OCs #my ocs are my babies

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chronicbeans · 1 year

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I Remember

A "Tales from the Iolite Hospital" story.

TW: Themes of Depression/Possible Implied Suicidal Thoughts, Mentions of Trauma-Induced Age Regression, Hospital Setting/Doctors, Medical Procedures, Mentions of Death, Chronic/Rare Illness

I walk through the large halls of Iolite, frowning deeply. Yet another appointment with Dr. Cogsworth. In fact, it is to set up another endoscopy, as well as a biopsy to see if the dupilumab is making anything any better. I hate them. They say that it should only be sore for a day afterward, but my esophagus is so narrow that it takes about a week for the pain to subside even slightly. Too much air gets trapped...

I enter Dr. Cogsworth's office, expecting to hear the usual music form his chest and the creaking clicks of his joints. However, it is silent. Silent and dark. I fumble around for the light switch, not intending to leave until I get the appointment done. I end up bumping into what feels like a body in a chair, leaning over it and feeling the switch. I flick it on.

The body I bumped into was none other than Dr. Cogsworth, himself. His key to wind him up is no longer in his back, instead lying on the floor beside him. His face is lying on his arms, which are neatly folded on his desk, with a look of both distress and peace on his face. Yes, it is contradictory for both emotions to exist in an expression at once... Perhaps it is more of a disturbed peace? Either way, he is unmoving, like he is in a place between both sleep and death. One which is simply called "we gotta wind him up, again, Nurse Janet", by his peers.

I would do it myself, but this is a great opportunity to snoop around. I search every book and cranny of his large office. I go through the unlocked cabinets, the drawers full of medical instruments, and even look at the weird models of different sections of the digestive system. You know, the ones you can tear apart and put back together? The cool ones?

I make my way back over to him, searching his desk, when I take a closer look at him face. I realize that it looks a bit odd. His face seems to be stained with... tears? His tears were always a bit more noticeable, due to the slightly blue-green tint in them. So, I guess that when they dry on his face, they leave little stains? What else would be covering his face in two thin, blue tracks from his eyes to his chin? Then there is the question of what he is covering with his arms.

As much as I hate him, and want to push him violently over to look at the little secret he is hiding, and watch him tumble to the floor... it would cause a commotion, most likely signalling a nurse to check in on him and I. Don't judge me for my want. He has been the bane of my existence. A constant reminder of how sick I am. Anyways...

So, I gently pick his arms up and move them over, then lift his head and pull the paper out from underneath it. For being a.. wind-up man? Doll? For being whatever he is, his hair feels surprisingly real and soft. Whoever made him must've done so with care. How sad it is that he turned out so emotionless and cruel. At least, that is the vibes I get from him. A doctor is supposed to be caring and gentle, with a gentle and warm aura. Not this cold, barren, and overly strict and harsh one that Dr. Cogsworth has.

I look at the paper, realizing that it must be a note of some sort. It is stained with drops of light blue-green, possibly even a turquoise color. The good thing is, none of it has ruined or covered the black pen he used to write it! I can still get the juicy tea from this! I can't wait to tell everyone his little secret. That's what he'll get for all that he has done.

Holding it up to my chest, so that I can read it with the various eyes upon my gown, I start at the beginning.

"To Whoever Finds This Note,

First of all... Please, do not wind me back up. I need a few days to contemplate some things. Preferably, an eternity to do so. I may never truly die, nor do I necessarily feel like I want to... At least, I do not believe I want to... but I must think over my recent actions, as well as the feelings in my chest."

Well... that is the FIRST red flag. That guy basically needs to be wound up to live and is telling people not to? I look over to him, seeing that disturbed, peaceful look on his face. The guy looks like he is in his sixties or something, but I know for a fact that he is younger than me. Doesn't make a difference in his actual mental age, since he was programmed to have the maturity, personality, and medical knowledge of a sixty year old doctor, but he does still hold the naivety of someone younger than me when it comes to the subject of things outside of medicine. Especially emotions, which I find absolutely hilarious, considering how he never shows any signs of having his own. I was sixteen when I came in, meanwhile, he was created five years before I arrived. Add eleven years... that makes him... Oh that makes it so he is sixteen currently. How ironic...

I look back at the note, trying to shake the thought that someone who has only had sixteen years of life experience, even if he was programmed to have sixty in specific areas, is thinking this way. If I had to guess, never being wound up is the equivalent of an eternal slumber. Willingly going through with never being wound up must be like... Resigning yourself to that fate.

"I have a few words I wish to share. I hope that whoever finds this is not a patient of mine, but if it is so, I will not have any reasons to care about it. If I never wake up, I will never know of it. My fellow healthcare providers, however, have been concerned about my recent, outspoken nature regarding the treatment of the patients on the C-Floor, especially my own, in the C-GastEnt ward. They say that I am losing the point. To follow the protocol. That it has been proven to work. I think that they have lost the point, but I have no choice but to follow through with their orders. I wish to address this in this note."

Ah, yes... the C-GastEnt ward. The ward on C-Floor specifically for patients with chronic gastrointestinal and digestive system conditions. The entirety of the C-Floor is for chronic illness patients, but that ward is our own special little hell. Why would Dr. Cogsworth care so much? He doesn't have to live there. No one else cares, either, besides the patients trapped on the C-Floor.

"I have been having thoughts regarding the purpose of the doctor in a patient's care. When I was first created, I was told that, as a doctor, it is my job to make patients feel better. It is my job to make it so that they are happy. Happiness is shown by a smile, if I am correct. I realized a few months back... none of my patients in the C-GastEnt ward have ever smiled at me during their time in my care. None of the others on the C-Floor have, either. If a person shows happiness through a smile, and no one is smiling, doesn't that mean that we are failing? We are failing at our one job in life. I am failing at my purpose in life."

I pause, again, looking back over to him. There is still so much more in his note, which I still plan to read... But this is growing a bit more concerning. "I hate Dr. Cogsworth because he is an emotionless robot with no idea as to how I feel and what it is like to be me" is what I have always said when others ask why I hate him so much. Now, however, as I read this... Yes, these aren't emotions. These are thoughts. The problem is, these are thoughts I know all too well. Not only that, but these are thoughts caused by concerns over his patients, including me. Thoughts caused by concerns I never even knew he was able to have towards people.

"In fact, I have seen many of them smile before. My peers complain about how Aluminum is a main point of obsession when it comes to these thoughts of mine. It isn't just him, but I talk about him often because, like I apparently am, he is outspoken in his dismay. I know his feelings the best, because he tells me about them the most out of all my patients. He is in pain, lots of pain, and he is letting me know it. He calls me a monster, when I am just following protocol. He says I am emotionless, to which I understand, but know I am not. I shall use him as an example in this note, both to accurately explain my concerns, and to spite you all who dare say those concerns are not important."

I can't help but chuckle at the last line. Spite. I love it. The old guy has a lot of courage to spite his peers like that. I then think over the rest of the paragraph, before realizing what he is saying. I am the most outspoken patient? I thought I was being quiet compared to the rest. Perhaps we all are just more open to each other than the doctors and nurses here. It would make sense. The usual response is "I am not a therapist. I can't help that you feel bad" or "let me get you more medicine".

"I remember, eleven years ago, when he first entered my office. We hadn't done the endoscopy, yet. I know how his kind, the Eyeless, work. They see through the eyes on their clothing, have no eyes on their face, and tend to be more modest and show large amounts of hospitality. A large part of their culture is the desire to grow up quickly. They want to act like adults, even when they are not. They try to be mature, independent, and be looked upon with high regards. Clothes that show too much skin, even just short sleeved shirts, shorts, or even skirts are not seen as proper."

Sounds about right. Dad was always fighting with mom, who wasn't an Eyeless, about how she dressed and how she let me dress. The parts about wanting to grow up too soon are right, as well. Kids as young as ten will be left alone, cooking dinner and such, not because their parents want to leave them, but because they want to seem more mature than they are.

"Aluminum walked into my office with his father. He was only sixteen and was complaining of pain while swallowing. However, when he saw me, he smiled. He smiled. He shook my hand, smiling and laughing as he said "for a man made of cogs and gears, you sure look nice! Your hand is also warmer than I expected, too! That's so cool!" His father immediately slapped his hand, saying something about being rude for saying that. It was the nicest thing I had heard all day, actually. In fact, I had just been chastised by another patient for not having any way to help her with her acid reflux. I had given her a set of instructions that she refused to follow. I couldn't do anything if she wouldn't help herself. That is besides the point. The point is, he was happy. He was smiling. Not only that, but his hand was warm. It was nice, warm, and, for a man with problems eating, not too frail or thin."

Raising an eyebrow, I feel confused. I get the first part. Yeah, I was happy before. I also remember saying those exact words to him. What do my hands have to do with anything? Why is he focusing on them? Seems kinda creepy.

"Next thing I know, after getting a barium swallow to check for abnormalities in the esophagus, such as strictures or holes, the imaging department sent in the pictures, alongside a note. The x-rays showed an amazingly horrible sight. The esophagus was proportional, with no sudden dips or bloating. However, the entirety of it was only around a half to a third the width it should be. The note said "Never seen this in my fourth years of working in imaging. Patient smiles when he saw the pictures, thinking it was normal due to no easily visible strictures and no knowledge on the width it should appear as on the imaging screen. When informed, patient began to laugh from a nervous breakdown, trying to play it off by saying "I am special! I am a freak of nature!" in a playful, shaking voice. Please tell me you know what this is, Dr. Cogsworth. I have no clue.""

I look up from the paper, shocked that he would remember the day so well, much less be informed of my reaction to the news. It continues on, too. I am too deep at this point. I must see this note through to the finish. It is multiple pages, at this point.

"When he came back for our next appointment, I told him I would do an endoscopy. His mother, bless her soul for being so kind, comforted him through my explanation of the procedure. She will be missed by many. She even waited the entire two hours as it was done, helped comfort him when he was scared of changing into the patient gown, telling him that he should trust me. There weren't any eyes on it, so he would be blind. He trusted me in the end, though, changing into the gown and letting me guide him to the surgery room. It usually only takes thirty or so minutes to do an upper endoscopy. For Aluminum, however, his esophagus was too small for our smallest endoscopes, including the pediatric ones, to fit into the opening of the esophagus. I needed to widen the entirety of his tract to perform the procedure. I took the biopsy, after seeing type two inflammation present in his esophagus, as well as some slight ringing in one area of it. I found that a high number of eosinophils were present, thus, diagnosing him with eosinophilic esophagitis. When he woke up from anesthesia, the first thing he did was regurgitate blood from his stomach, before trying to get out of bed, screaming in horror about the blood, only for me to have to catch him before he dropped to the ground or tipped over the bed pan used to catch the blood."

I shudder, remembering that moment. It was awful. My mother was there by my side during those days. She passed away sometime later, but I was already admitted as a long-term patient, so I wasn't allowed to visit her or go to her funeral.

"I have the young man his diagnosis, explaining that it was chronic, what I had to do, and how his case is very severe. I also explained how it was a new diagnosis, so there isn't much known about it. In those exact moments, I saw all light leave his face. Two little wings appeared above his head. I knew that it was a sign that the poor man was traumatized. Wings are a telltale sign that an Eyeless has faced a life-changing trauma, good or bad. The look on his face read that it was not only bad, but like I had dragged him through the raging fires of hell, through mountains of needles, and thrown him into a pit of lava. He trusted me. He trusted me and I traumatized him immediately afterward. I felt the worst pain in my chest, piercing right where my heart would be. It pierced right through my music box."

Only one more section to read. One more section, then I will be able to go. I can't just leave myself in the dark. I must know.

"There were no more warm flutters, like when he shook my hand upon our first meeting. Just... an agonizing pain. For these past eleven years, time seems to have begun to move slower for me. I want it to end. I want my world to turn, again. My dreams have been of him leaving this hospital, the building crumbling around me as I watch him go. I get the warm fluttering feeling, smiling in my dreams. I smile. I know I feel happy in those dreams. I feel happy because he always turns back to smile at me. Whenever I get the same feeling in reality, I do not know if it is happiness, sadness, nostalgia, or whatever. But I know those dreams of his escape and my own destruction within Iolite are happy. I know, in truth, that it will never happen. The Iolite Hospital will never fall. It will keep turning around me, watching the patients, workers, and myself with its watchful eyes. Tears have been falling from my eyes more recently, to which I cannot comprehend why, except for the commonality of each incident being the pain in my chest rising to an unbearable level. Is it guilt? Is it sadness? Is it a feeling of unbearable apathy? I fear the worst.

The only times I see him smile are when he regresses in age, acting like a child. He does this to go back to a time where he wasn't aware of his illness, as such, having no care in the world. Back to a time where he never met me. In those moments, the second he spots me, he runs away in fear. He avoids me like I am an angel of death.

The most unbearable part is Aluminum's hands, nowadays. When he shakes my hands, which is a rare occasion, nowadays, they are cold. They are cold, frail, skinny... He is losing weight. His fingers sometimes even look a bit blue, not due to cyanosis, but due to him being so pale and skinny that his veins are visible through the skin. His fingers and body do not have enough fat to hold warmth, making them cold. He even says that my own hands feel as cold as stone.

The Iolite Hospital has made us both cold."

I finish reading in, placing it back down on the desk. I am speechless. I always thought he never cared. I look back to him, seeing that he is still as stone, of course. I hesitate, before picking up his key, winding him back up. He has a lot to explain. I have a lot to explain. I have a lot to apologize for.

#Tales from the Iolite Hospital #passion project #my stories #My ocs #my ocs are my babies

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