The rest of the week isn't very eventful, from a medical perspective. They put a catheter in her, keep giving her dextrose via IV, monitor her vitals, and mostly leave her alone. 

One of the nurses, bored on a night shift, asks her some rather personal questions, which she answers without delay or vocal inflection. She turns out to be a good source of embarrassing high school stories! Her sex life misadventures, especially as a part of her search for puberty blockers, are too juicy not to share with a few friends... 

Over the next four days, a number of people find some kind of excuse to be in her room and then ask her about what was a pretty unpleasant and stressful time in her life and then laugh or snicker or smile sadly at her answers.

 She doesn't react, of course. 

She's asleep when it ends, which is in some ways a blessing - the backlash doesn't go away instantly, and she gets her pain recognition back online before she gets the ability to act on it. (She shifts uncomfortably in bed, and makes distressed noises.)

Eventually, she wakes up and cries out in pain, the dozens of assorted aches built up from a week in bed with no will to move around to be more comfortable hitting her all at once. 

Given the timing and the total remission of symptoms it's pretty clear she's an esper! 

(Several gossipers immediately decide to never speak of this again. Out of respect.)

They can check her over where she hurts, if she'd like?

No, actually she wants to leave this hospital basically immediately and will be doing that unless anyone tries very hard to stop her. 

...they're definitely not going to argue with a visibly distressed new esper, she can do that.

Tubes are removed, she's good to go, congrats here's a one page primer for new espers don't use your powers without a compatible partner for backlash management, bye! 

Okay. Deep breaths. Her phone and laptop are both dead, but she knows the bus route around here just fine.

She manages to keep herself together until she gets back to her apartment and stuffs her face with junk snack food. (She's so hungry.)

She turns on the shower to mask the noise (the last thing she wants is a neighbor coming and checking on her now) and soaks herself in near-scalding water as she sobs uncontrollably. 

She gives herself about five minutes of that, and then pulls herself together.

Okay. Come on. It wasn't that bad. And that's the worst part, and it's over. 

She turns off the shower.

Cara dries herself off, checks herself out in the mirror thoughtfully, and slips on one of the dresses she uses as house-clothes.

It's late at night, but her brain is buzzing. She pizza to order, friends and colleagues and a loving aunt to update, a college to drop out of, and mixers to find and attend.

She's an esper, and she's got dreams to chase.