Troubling Science

Hi there II folks! I must apologize firstly for not doing the rounds and reading other peoples work last week, something I aim to remedy over the weekend.
For this week's IIChallenge, I was prompted by the one and only, Liz Culver (her prompt is located at the end of the post), and I challenged Jen O with ‘It all started with a ...’ and just as I was really getting into it she writes: “To be continued ...” cheeky blogger J, I’m looking forward to the next instalment though!

Paramedics and other emergency services rushed to the scene, finding the twisted metal of my car, the school bus, and the 18 wheeler that had caused all the chaos.
Police units had already shut down a large section of the motorway causing other motorists to crawl past, looking on in shock as fire-fighters chased away the flames coming from a burst fuel line.

I learned that I was the first and the last person being worked on in the back of an ambulance once my broken body had been cut out of the wreckage. I could hear a distraught individual, probably an officer on scene; he kept praying over and over that there has to be more than one.

All those children, those lives that were far more precious than mine, just written off in seconds. I was only semi-conscious but I could hear the paramedics informing the police outside the ambulance and although I was the only survivor, I wasn't going to last very long.

As we punched through red lights and traffic, sirens blazing, I slipped in and out of consciousness, flat-lining just as we reached the hospital and awaking to the feeling of new life being charged directly through my chest.

"We nearly lost you there!" A paramedic said as she parted my eyelids and shone a light in my eyes. "Pupils full and responsive." she said to her partner who was at the front of the gurney.

At first I saw the ceiling of the ambulance, then the cloudless starry night sky and then a female doctor with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Her blue rimmed glasses made it hard to focus on her eyes but I was too groggy to answer when she asked what my name was.

The sudden brightness inside the building hurt my eyes making me see stars momentarily. The doctor with the blue glasses was getting a quick summary of my injuries most of which was in medical jargon that I didn't understand; maybe it was for my own good. At best I could only feel a growing pounding in my head and nothing else. The only thing I grasped before blacking out again was the question: "Is he viable?"

I woke up after what felt like a very long time to the sound of dozens of conversations, a high pitched whine and a consistent humming that sounded like electronic equipment. It was all too much, all at once. I put my hands to my ears hardly noticing that the effort was painless and squeezed my eyelids shut, completely concentrating on blocking out the noise. After a few seconds most of it subsided like someone was turning down a stereo, slowly. I was left with a conversation between a man and a woman, more medical chatter and lots and lots of science. Words like:  ‘molecular’, ‘quantum mechanical’ and ‘sub-atomic’ were thrown around but I had no idea where it was coming from.
I opened my eyes to find myself sat up in a white and grey circular room with a mirror running its circumference. Various trays with used surgical implements and bloodstained towels were my only company.
I looked down to see I was dressed in a short sleeved jumpsuit like the ones convicts wear only mine wasn't orange, it was red. My toes were a welcomed sight and I hesitated before making them wiggle. I was pretty sure that if I wasn't dead I would at least be paralysed from the waist down. My big toes responded, much to my relief. At that moment the quiet conversation got louder again hurting my ears so much that I gripped the side of the bed bending the toughened steel frame too easily. I quickly grabbed a pillow and placed it where my hand had been to hide the damage before two people entered the room through double doors to my left that I hadn't noticed before.

"Ah, good, he's awake already," said a male doctor. He was in his late fifties, had soft eyes and spoke encouragingly. "Forgive us for the state of the room; our surgeons can be quite messy, especially after performing miracles."

"How do you feel?" The young woman beside him asked, touching the frame of her blue glasses.

"What happened to me? Where am I?" I asked.

"All in good time," the older doctor replied. "Please answer the good doctor's question." He said nodding towards his colleague.

I hadn't had much chance to think about it. I moved my legs, bent my arms, arched my back a little and rotated my neck to convey more to myself than anyone else how I might be feeling. They seemed pleased before I gave my obvious answer and proceeded to have their own conversation, a continuation of the one I couldn't follow before. The older doctor seemed happy almost excited, his colleague regarded me with marked concern. I actually felt great, in fact I felt better than great. I felt like I was totally rested, pumped with energy and able to jump off the bed and run twice around the city, but there was something about me that troubled her.
Maybe it was the vibe I was picking up from her, I wasn't sure but, I began to recall the accident or just the bits I could remember. From the extent of what the paramedics had said I shouldn't be alive. And then it dawned on me. "Doctor," I said anxiously. They both turned to face me. "What did you mean by miracles?"

"Liz prompted me with: Nanotechnology."