As days turned into weeks, I became graduially familiar with the staff on my floor. Some were professional to an almost cynical degree, though others would stick around for a small chat before they trotted on.

One in particular caught my attention, not for her hospitality exactly, but for her refusal to look me in the eye.

She was kind enough, but seemed eager to move on as quickly as possible.

“Is everything alright, miss?” I finally asked one evening, when she brought me a meal.

“Oh.” She seemed to shrink back at the words, as if stung. “Er, yes, I suppose. I just…”

She paused for a moment, giving a shaky sigh, before then looking up.

“I didn’t want to be pushy.”

Her eyes were shining with suppressed emotion.

“My parents were on that flight. Coming home from a weekend in New York.” She pressed on. “When I heard about the crash-landing, I just… I had no idea what to think!”

She took another moment to recollect herself before continuing.

“So, thank you, I suppose.”

I gave a quick nod in response, and it seemed as though she took that as a sign of annoyance.

“I’m, er, I’m sorry, sir! I’ll levae you alone now!”

She frantically spun around and bounded for the door.

“Miss!” I called after her and she paused. “Please. There’s no need to apologize. I am happy to know your parents are alive and well, but incredibly sorry they had to go through such an ordeal.”

Giving a faint chuckle, I went on.

“If they were to consider ever flying again, I do hope they’ll think of their friends with Grand Britannica Airways.”

Relaxing somewhat, the young nurse laughed.

“Forgive me.” I held my hands up. “Tasteless joke.”

Still giggling, the nurse replied.

“I think my father would appreciate it.”

“Then please, pass it on with my blessing.” I noted, looking over my food. A simple meal of what looked to be meat, steamed veggies and some sort of mash with gravy on top.

“May I ask your name?” picking up my utensils, I glanced towards her again.

Returning to the bed and slipping onto the chair, she responded.

“Joyce.” She replied.

“Joyce.” I echoed, beginning to dig into my meal. “Did your parents have fun? All things considered?”

“I think the flight home gave them the biggest impression.” Replied Joyce, as I ate. “On the plus side, they saved the money on a train ride back from London.”

“Ah.” I finished chewing on the meat and swallowed. “It’s not all bad, then.”

I gave a discreet cough, and reached for my glass of water.

“Ah.” Nurse Joyce gave a grimace. “Sorry about that…”

“Hm?” I swallowed away the rest of my water and passed her a quizzical look.

She gave a shrug and clarified.

“Hospital food, you know…” she muttered. “Not really five star quality.”

Almost choking on my next bite I gave a stifled laugh.

“Miss.” I said. “I work at an airline. I think I’m quite qualified to determine whether or not this food is less than five star quality.”

I took another bite and made a show of considering the taste and texture.

“It’s pretty good!” I concluded. “Probably a… four point five star?”

Nurse Joyce laughed.

“Well, you would be a first!” she said.

“Likely a testament to the safety of my industry.” I noted, only halfway jesting.

“I’m glad.” Nurse Joyce got up, cleaning away my finished dish. “Otherwise my parents might have been dead. Thanks again.”

The following day, I was brought by a doctor to an examination room.

“Alright, let’s have a look beneath those bandages.” He said, pulling on a pair of latex gloves.

The bandages had been changed and the wounds checked regularly during my stay, and while the surface damage gradually got better my hearing and sight did not return.

Today was no different.

As the doctor carefully removed the bandages off my ear, neck and face, I opened my left eye, instinctively blinking, as though the light was bothersome.

“Right, here we are.” The doctor stepped back, disposing of the bandages in a bin. “Your wounds have healed nicely, I see.” He smiled. “Now, of course there will be some scarring along your neck, ear and eye. There’s nothing to do about that. I’m afraid. Does it feel alright? Raise your arm for me.”

I did as told. It was a bit tingly, but not painful.

As the doctor talked me through some more tests, he slowly circled around my left side, occasionally giving my body a gentle prod or correction.

“Alright, good… Any discomfort?”

“No, sir.” I replied, dropping my arm.

“Sir!” the doctor chuckled. “How polite!”

I felt my cheeks flush.

“Sorry, sir. Force of habit.” I muttered.

“Ah, it can’t be helped, I suppose.” The doctor laughed. “I once referred to a steak knife as a meat scalpel on accident. Made for an interesting atmosphere around the dinner table.”

He grabbed a little torch from a supply tray.

“Alright, let’s have a look at your ear…”

He sauntered on back to me and went about examining my ear canal.

“Hmmm…” he tutted silently to himself. “At this point, I think it’s safe to say that your hearing will not be coming back. The damage here is just too great.”

“Understood.” I said. By now, I had expected as much.

Turning the flashlight off, the doctor passed me a compassionate look.

“I’m terribly sorry.” He said. “I do wish there was more I could do.”

“Don’t be.” I gave a weary smile. “You’ve done all you can.”

Giving a faint chuckle, the doctor replied.

“Well. Not quite yet.”

He held up the torch once more.

“I’ve still got your eye to check out.”

It was an interesting sensation, and one I never got quite used to, having a torch shone directly into my eye, but not being bothered by it.

“Mmmh…” the doctor shifted the angle of the beam. “Can’t say I see much of a difference, yet… How does it feel? Do you sense the light?”

“No, doctor. I can’t say I do.” I had to take a moment to recollect myself. Out of the two injuries, I wasn’t sure which one would be more troublesome to keep, but figured my chances with the AHSAE and onwards would be better with only one of them.

“Hm.” The doctor let the light shine a moment longer, staring intently at my face, before eventually backing off.

“Well, in this case I am far less certain. There is a chance the injury will completely heal in time, but there is an equal chance it will remain like this or only partially heal.”

He put away the torch.

“At any rate, there is little point in keeping you checked in here any longer.” He went on.

“We’ve been in contact with an ophthalmologist in London, who will continue your treatment there once you’re released.”

“Thank you, sir.”