Chapter 1 of Short Story not yet titled

My eyes struggled to open, only making it halfway. I peered into the dark hospital room through semi-hooded lids, intoxicated with Benadryl and Ativan, the perfect combination to keep me from fully realizing the nausea churning in my gut and the fever that had spiked to a dangerous temperature—high enough to nearly boil any brain. Figures were hovering over me, black and blurry in the poorly lit room with what appeared to be worried looks on their faces. I felt the cold metal of a thermometer in my mouth before I even saw the hand come towards me, the unpleasant taste causing my stomach to lurch threateningly.
         I had never felt such pain in my stomach, it was almost as if a hand had grabbed a hold of my intestines and squeezed. Tired eyes closed tight, shaking fingers pressing against my sick belly. “Please…” I murmured, trying to convey my need for more medication. Something, anything, to help me sleep again. God, the pain was horrible and the feeling was too much for me to bear, growing stronger and more horrifying by the second as the drugs wore off.
         The figure above me frowned, the hazy line of lips turning down as their eyes scanned the thermometer’s reading. “It’s too high. We have to get these blankets off of her.” I felt hands pulling at the edge of my warm cocoon, tugging it away from the heavy grasp of my hands. I only let it go because I was too weak to fight. My arms wrapped around my knees, pulling them to my chest as though the pressure to my abdomen would make the queasiness disappear, and the warmth of my own body would stop the violent trembling that started.
         “I’m giving her some more Benadryl.” I could finally see the nurse’s face, and her hand wrapped around a syringe filled with clear liquid. She injected it into my IV line. As soon as I closed my eyes, my world fell from beneath me again.