It was all a big suitcase fest, is what it was. Wasn't it just? Two going out, one coming in. I do wonder who'll take the place of the other two, those two lucky enough to be released, healthy, whilst I've been here two and a half years. Or, maybe if I'll even meet them at all. Actually, it's all a day for transitions, the new nurse coming in as well.

Adele was leaving, I would've thought that to be a weight off my shoulders, cruel happiness to be rid of her, as opposed to this calamitous emotion, this jealousy. So foreign and cruel, curdling any food in my stomach from breakfast and tearing at my insides, jealousy. Perhaps I should be happy for her leaving, but not for the reasons I would be. Should be happy for her, in the crowd with everyone wishing her well. Instead, if I could be happy, it would only be to be rid of her. Rid of her blonde head. Her gum-chewing, heal-clacking, brown eyed, attention demanding little seventeen year old. And, yet, I can't even feel that.

Nor can I be excited for her, for overcoming her fibromyalgia. Or, perhaps amazed that our doctor had successfully helped her in such short time, after having used only one medication and tactic. Actually, I am kind of surprised she was cured so very easily, let alone diagnosed in the short time it took. Fibromyalgia, from what I know, is a chronic condition characterized by widespread pain in one's muscles, ligaments, and tendons, as well as fatigue and multiple tender points. Except, most doctors generally can't place a condition on it even after multiple tests, hence my amazement at how quickly she was diagnosed. Then again, perhaps the irritable bowel syndrome and sleep disturbances tipped her doctor off quite well.

Still more astonishing is how doctor Buoch managed to line up a treatment that worked for her without any failure, considering his amount of failure in the past and that, come on, he most certainly is not the brightest crayon in the doctor's box. Fibromyalgia is cured with medicine, yes, but also very dependent on certain therapies and self-care. From what I've gathered, Adele, the not-so-lovely blonde equivalent to the insufferable and hautain popular high school girl, was given Pregabalin as medication, probably better known as Lyrica. Lyrica is an anti-seizure drug that was found to reduce symptons of fibromyalgia. Another dual worker medicine with a great deal of side effects. Much like how another anti-seizure drug, Topiramate or Topamax, was found to work for migraine prevention. That, however, remains a pointless digression of knowledge I won't be needing, anyways.

Aside from the prescribed medication Buoch managed to miraculously pick out for Adele and find that, big shocker, they actually worked, he set up that she should see a trained chiropractor, which no doubt sucked a larged deal of money from her funds. Nevertheless, 'twas incontrovertibly a good idea, little though as I wish to admit it. Then, outside of that, he suggest (more likely commanded, but that's not exactly my place to judge) that she complete daily exercise; starting out slow, with garden walks and building up to aerobics so as not to strain herself early. Poor little Adele, that meant putting away her wretched heels to be replaced with sneakers. Sneakers, the good old fashioned shoes that we've scarcely heard of a person breaking their neck due to.

Which does, in all actuality, bring me to another digression: how much money this place takes from us. A 'screw you', really, considering the fact that we must pay monthly to reside here, pay for seeing the doctor, pay for the medications (most of which are never finished because they did not work properly), and then pay for outside therapies such a chiropractors. A more than evil bill, especially to those with horrid health insurance, or, like me, who have no family to help back them. But, it doesn't even really matter, does it? Considering that most of us just die anyways, and then I'd be amazed if we could still pay off that glorious debt. Not with no family to pay it and no one to leave it to. The great scam undone, hah.

Alas, I did say that more than one was leaving, two total, in fact. So then, who was the other but Mason? The one patient that I've yet to find anything bad to say about. Which, all in all, must mean quite a lot, considering that most fifteen year old boys are anything but mature. Still, from what I've seen of him, he certainly was. But, then again, he really was rare, wasn't he? So large a compilation of recessive genes so as to be both a red head and hold the ever sought after green eyes. That in itself is rare enough, but to be kind, too? I suppose Pharlain was truly lucky as to that one, always calming people so as to prevent a fight, even joining myself the nights I couldn't sleep due to nightmares (hearing so easily through the paper thin walls). Never questioning, merely offering a box of tissues and reading aloud from my book of poems. Mason, if anyone, I can truly say I'm happy for.

Mason himself once told me of why he was admitted to Pharlain medical. I suppose I considered him too much a friend, or as close to one as I've ever had, to allow for my curiosity to get the better of me otherwise. Except for that I was half asleep at the time and the details of it all are a bit sketchy upon trying to remember. I do recall that he had a form of tachycardia. To the best of my memory, I think a normal heart is to beat between sixty and one hundred times a minute, anything over that is to be called tachycardia. It can originate in the upper heart chambers of the ventricles, and I do remember that his was a form of the ventricle, but that is as specific as I remember. Whether ventricular tachycarida, ventricular fibrillation, or ventricular something, I don't particularly know. And, I'm okay with that.

I do also know that Buoch did not have another lucky miracle, as with Adele, in automatically getting the treatment perfect. Although, truly if the two of them were to be my choices--and if I had a choice in the matter--I could hardly say that Adele could deserve such over him. Especially since the better human of the two was the on with the life-threatening disease. Well, that's something I truly never expected of myself, believing a male the better person. Although, I suppose it must have been bound to happen eventually.

For Mason's treatment, he was first given calcium channel blockers, a form of medication used to in various ways slow nerve impulses in the heart of reduce its workload. Those however, failed miserably. The concept of how they work and what they should do was still a good idea apparently, as Buoch's next decision was to try a combination of two treaments. The first was beta blockers, which held the same concept as his previous medicines, as well as blood thinners, which are used to reduce the risk that the abnormal rhythm of a person's heart beat may lead to a blood clot and, in turn, stroke or heart attack. I couldn't say how, but this combination must have worked.

So, I've lost the high school drama queen, I've also lost he who was the closest thing to a friend. For what? Gretel, the nonalcoholic fatty liver disease that Saskia had informed me of. Was I right? Did she treat her body horribly to have ever acquired such a disease? Well, in a word, yes. And, it was disgusting. A rather large girl, or perhaps more than, a gruesomely large girl, of her own doing--probably that disgusting fast food--lounging on the once delicate couch, decked out entirely in no other color but pink. Blue, I can handle; purple, I've grown to love; yellow, I'll take on any day but Easter; but pink I could not bear. Her bare feet hung over the arm rest, her bare feet. My eyes were probably watering in pain. Then, there was the unwashed rats nest of curly brown hair. I am cold and I am cruel, sure. I will accept it. I am judging her. But, I cannot live with bad hygiene, I am sorry.

However, much an opinion as I hold, as much as I may have wanted to wish Mason happily on, I did nothing of the sort. I merely sat instead against my strip of shadowy wall throughout the entire tansaction, hoping for Mason to come across my letter of thanks within his suitcase that morning. Actually, hoping he could read it, justifying the trouble others have had with my tiny sript. Still sorry, nonetheless, that I'd never spoken to him.

It was in that place of mine, with those sentiments on my mind, that I was joined by Levi. She slid her back down the wall from a standing position to sit beside me, curling her knees to her chest to duplicate my own stance. I honestly could not say I knew what she was thinking, what she wanted. I had never before been joined by another whilst at my stretch of wall. So, I waited. And, I waited. I waited until perhaps all the commotion had died down in entirety. Mason and Adele having stepped outside the grounds, and Gretel having been dragged off to her very first appointment with doctor Buoch. It was then, for the first time since I'd ever arrive at Pharlain, that I gave up searching for reason and understanding and holding my composure. It was then I realize how, perhaps, foolish I'd been, and allowed for myself to be comfortable in her presence. And, in doing so, I was the one to break the silence, "Hey, I'm Amethyst."

It was perhaps the most rudimentary sentence a person could produce, but, given the circumstances, she realized just how important it was, and continued the conversation easily with a smile, "I know, I'm Levi. Mason was really sad when you didn't say goodbye, you know?"

The smile that'd been growing on my face dropped as she added that last sentence, laying welcome to the guilt I knew I well deserved. "I wrote him a note," I mumbled softly, knowing she'd have to strain to hear, but hoping she would, "Because I couldn't face so many people."

"Hey, Amethyst, it's okay. He was sad, yeah, but he also understood, that's why he wanted me to give you this," She pushed a book into my lap, hard cover and with elegant script. No doubt entirely precious, and I'll never be able to read it. No, because my stupid doctor couldn't identify my sarcoidosis until I'd had it for about four years. No, because my red, watery eyes somehow managed to be one of the rare, life-threatening cases. No, because my T-helper lymphocytes apparently respond too strongly to a perceived threat, and I'm alread too far gone to be treated.

I didn't even bother trying to hid the tears leaking from my eyes now, instead sliding the book back into her own hands, "N-no, you keep it. I w-won't be able to r-read it, anyw-ways."

"Oh," She need not have said more, it was quite clear Levi understood. That anyone who's ever even once resided here would understand. "You know, my sister died when I was young. I was always the problem child," She laughed softly, breaking off momentarily to close her eyes and lean back, "I had needed a new kidney. Turned out my sister was a person donor match, and she willingly gave up hers. I was the problem child, not her, no one thought she'd die, no matter how horrible that surgery is..."

A kidney transplant, the missing link in Levi's disease. Her immune system was being repressed. Congratulations, I've wasted my time collecting information about people I don't even know, what good is that? And, now I get to kick the grimy ol' bucket. "Levi, why are you telling me this?" I peered through my tears at her own tear-stained face, realizing just now that it was clear of lesions. That her life-threatening disease is cured and my red, watery eyes led to my death. I detest science.

"Well, I'm healed," here she laughed a little again, but it was hidden by a hiccup, "but that doesn't mean we haven't all gone through pain. Besides, a good friend once told me that one hundred percent of people die. There are no exceptions to that, so maybe we should be grateful for the time we have."

I smiled at those wise words, flinching still at the mess I'd made of everything. Before answering, I watched across the room at Pharlain's newly acquired nurse, Maia, with her sweet but stern smile in place even as she went about going over the records, brown locks slipping into her face. Perhaps, this one will last, and that's just what I told Levi, smiling as she laughed heartily at the conversations change of pace.