“The headaches are getting worse every day. I vomited up something that I don't think is part of me. There is something happening to me that I cannot quite explain. I have tried to figure it out. I have looked everywhere for answers, but all I have to go on is the strange wounds on my hands; my index finger is missing. Along with this is a single phrase. “Non Fel Virginia.” The doctors won't tell me anything. They just keep looking at me like I am crazy, like I have done something awful. But they do not understand.
I don't remember much. They sealed the room I am in. Calling it a quarantine. But no one has been in to see me. I must have been in surgery because my medical chart is here. So little of it makes sense. I have gone over the information over and over and though it may be true, I can't accept it. Because it makes me sound like something awful.
I came in to get tests. That was all. I felt sick. Very sick. I just wanted to know why I was feeling sick.
They had me stay overnight. I had a dream about my dead mother. She was dying again, her fluids and stool flung all over the white, devoid room. No one had seen her in hours. No one was helping her. I tried to...I think. I woke up, but her fluids were still on my hands. I could see them, and they wouldn't wash off no matter how much I tried. No matter how raw my flesh became.
They had a psychologist come in and talk to me. I told them about the dream, about the feeling of scratching on the inside of my skin. He looked concerned, and I reminded him that I was a doctor. That he could tell me what was wrong. But he didn't say anything. Just looked at me with confusion and left to talk to my presiding nurse.