Inside Out Part Ten
Title: Inside Out Part Ten
Author: Twilight
Summary: Blair has been putting something off for a long time and Jim's determined to find out why, but at what cost...
Feedback: Always welcome
Notes: This story has been suggested by my dear friend Romanse, yeah, she made me do it.
*origanally this was going to be the last part, but another idea formed in my slightly crazy brain and I couldn't let it go, so there will be at least one more part...maybe two.
Sorry it took so long to update, but it took awhile to rework the ending to fit in the new idea.
*~*~*
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Jim busied himself in the kitchen, slicing bananas and strawberries and putting them into the blender. He glanced up from his task to see Blair shifting uncomfortably on the sofa. “You want to lay down for awhile, Chief?”
“No, I want to stay out here.”
Jim nodded, adding ice and a splash of milk to the machine before turning it on. “How about lying on the couch for a bit? It’s a change of scenery and you can watch the TV, maybe take a nap.”
Blair hadn’t been sleeping well, restless most nights.
They’d been home for four days now and even though Blair had been following the doctors instructions, he still seemed worn down and…well sick.
He moved stiffly, as if afraid he could hurt himself just by walking from his bed to the couch. Jim had tried to get him outside into the sun, take a short walk, but Blair flat out refused.
Some days the trip to the bathroom seemed too much for his friend.
Jim heard a small sigh and then the shifting of Blair’s body over the roar of the blender. He didn’t move to help ease Blair down even though he itched to help.
He was trying hard to give Blair some space.
They hadn’t really talked about what had happened, Blair didn’t elaborate on the events and Jim didn’t ask.
It was enough to see the evidence of the surgery. The toll it took on Blair’s body, his inability to sleep well, the puffy and dark circles below dull blue eyes, the lines of pain around his mouth.
Jim felt like he was walking on glass or maybe a minefield.
He’d been tiptoeing around, not wanting to do anything to remind Blair of what had happened or to bring up painful memories with unwanted questions.
Blair would open up when he was ready.
So until he did, Jim made sure Blair rested as much as possible without being overbearing, made sure her ate without making a big deal about what was left on his plate, made sure he took his medicines and helped cleaned his drains, change his gauze.
Since coming home Blair had seemed a little withdrawn, staying in his room for much of the day and evening. Jim had brought him his meals, so he was happy that Blair had come to the dinner table and ate some soup.
He didn’t return to his room after dinner, instead settling on the couch. Since Blair hadn’t eaten much, Jim was making them both a smoothie because it was the one thing that Blair seemed to finish.
The phone rang so Jim’s flipped off the blender and picked up the phone. “Ellison…yeah, hang on. It’s for you, Chief.”
Blair sat up slowly, wincing a time or two. Jim handed him the phone and went back into the kitchen to pour out their dessert.
The conversation was short.
Blair was pale and sweaty as he flicked off the phone, tossing it to the other end of the sofa and then sinking back into the cushions.
Jim waited, already knowing the call was from Mercy’s administrator.
“They didn’t find anything.” Blair finally said. “The machine was functional and the paper work supports the dosage confirmed in the machines computer. But…”
Jim came into the living room and sat on the end of the couch, waiting.
“They ah, they want to settle. Want me to sign a waver stating the hospital and their personal claim no responsibility.”
“What do you want to do?” Jim asked after another minute of silence. “We could request an independent investigation.”
Blair shifted forward and stood on weak knees, grabbing his pillow and blanket. “No…I don’t want…their lawyer will call at the end of the week, so…”
Jim nodded standing and following Blair to his bedroom under the steps. “Ok, whatever you want…”
Tired eyes met Jim’s.
It just wasn’t fair that something like this could happen.
He knew Blair was only willing to settle because he didn’t want to relive it. The people that should have been doing the healing were doing the hurting…and not only physically, but emotionally.
Blair had been sullen and moody since he had come home and Jim had a feeling that it would be awhile before he saw Blair out of his bedroom again.
He didn’t know what to say, so Jim reverted to how he could help. “Ah, before you lay down how about we change your bandages.”
“I got it, man. Thanks” and then the door quietly closed on him.
“Damn.”
It was only a little before six, too early for bed.
Jim went into the kitchen and cleaned up the dishes, washing then drying then putting them away in the cabinet. He cleaned out the blender, put the smoothies he made in the fridge incase Blair come out of his room later and decided he wanted it.
Twenty minutes later he found himself on the couch, flipping through the channels. “This sucks…”
*~*~*
Blair sunk down onto the closed toilet seat, wincing as a twinge of pain shot through his belly.
He was still really sore and tired; really tired just from walking to the bathroom, even though he had spent most of the day in his bed.
At this point he was tired of being tired.
Carefully pulling at the Velcro that held his support belt in place, he unpinned the collection bag, noting that it was nearly empty, that the tubes carrying away the fluid from his wound had hardly any drainage.
It had only been a little over a week since his surgery and he knew that it would be at least another before the tubes came out.
Uncapping the collection bag, he dumped the contents into the measuring cup, noting the amount on a log he had to keep. Once the bag was empty, he squeezed the air out and recapped it, pinning it to the wide belt wrapped around his abdomen. He already had the alcohol and q-tips sitting on the counter around the sink. After dipping the cotton end into the fluid, he swabbed around the base of the tubes, where they were stitched into his skin.
“You okay in there, Chief?”
He could tell that his friend was standing right outside the door. “Yeah…just give me a minute.” He finished with the alcohol and q-tips, taping down clean pieces of gauze over the tubes. The surgical tape that covered his stitches was starting to fray on the edges and pulled at his skin, itched so bad, he couldn’t wait until they came out…he just wanted to get back to normal.
So much had happened but he was trying to move on, not dwell on any aspect, and just forget about it…that tactic had served him in the past.
It’s been hard though.
Every time he closed his eyes and started to drift toward sleep it all comes rushing back. Memories of the pain he suffered. The confusion and fear. Vivid details of that other place that he couldn’t escape. And it scared him that it was him, his own mind conjuring up the details to his own private hell.
Movement in the hall caught his attention. He stood, pulling his shirt down and cleaning up a little, disposing of the gunk in the measuring cup and cleaning it out.
When he opened the door the hall was empty, but he knew Jim wasn’t far away. If he called the man would be by his side in seconds. And that was kinda nice, he had to admit. That was the difference between then and now. Now he had a friend, he had Jim.
“How about we go out for dinner?” Jim was in the kitchen, looking through the fridge. Blair sat at the dinning table, still feeling some twinges near his belly button. He wasn’t hungry and didn’t really want to go out, but when Jim came into the room, he looked so hopeful.
“I guess that would be ok.” He said. It was time to get back to his normal routine.
They decided on Lindy’s by the docks. Blair order soup and pasta, not yet trusting his stomach. Over the past few days he went from running to the bathroom to not being able to go.
Jim had made a comment earlier about being up through the night, but Blair just blew it off. His bathroom habits shouldn’t be a topic of conversation.
“So,” Jim wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin and sat it on the table before picking up his glass. “I was thinking that if you’re feeling up to it, we can work on refinishing your bookcase this weekend.”
“Thanks. That would be great.” Blair pushed his food around his plate, his appetite gone. In fact his stomach was turning itself into knots. “I’m gonna…” he stood up, feeling flush and dizzy, but needing to go to the restroom. “I’ll be right back, man.”
He didn’t wait for Jim to acknowledge him, but hurried through the tables and down the hall that lead to the bathroom, but he didn’t make it to the door. Something sharp stabbed his belly and he doubled over and threw up in the hall. The greenish brown mess hit the hardwood floors, splashing over his sneakers and pant leg.
He could hear a commotion behind him, but couldn’t look as he continued to heave whatever was left in his stomach. A hand rubbed at his back, held is hair and finally he could hear Jim’s soothing voice. “It’s alright, Chief. Let it out.” Finally he stopped, gagging again on the smell and taste.
Someone handed him a wet towel so he wiped his lips and face, desperate to get the taste out of his mouth before it made him threw up again.
He was lead away from the mess and pushed down to the floor, turned to his side, his legs pushed up to take the strain off his stomach. Another wet towel was laid along the back of his neck and someone was holding his wrist.
“The ambulance is on the way, just relax.”
What…wait… He shook his head. “Noooo…I can’t Jim, please…”
“I know, Blair.” His friend sat behind him, his legs along Blair’s back. “It’s ok, you’re gonna be ok.”
He shook his head again. Shaking with fear and yet knowing he needed to calm down. Sweat broke out on his top lip and he felt hot. Pain near his belly button continued to throb and he was scared.
“What’s, what’s…”
The hand holding his tightened, “You need to go buddy. Something’s wrong, but they’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”
He knew he was breathing too fast, his heart beat triple time in his chest and he was freezing, lying on the hardwood floor near the kitchen entrance. People kept going back and forth and Blair could see the legs of the chefs and wait staff.
“You have to calm down, Blair. Take some nice deep breaths.”
He tried, but his panic ratcheted up another notch when the paramedics arrived.
Jim filled them in on his being sick and having belly pain, told them about the surgery and his doctor’s name.
He was rolled over and hands lifted his shirts and pressed into his stomach. “Have you been feeling sick before now?”
He shook his head, keeping his eyes tightly closed as someone put a blood pressure cuff around his arm, then listened to his chest and belly with a cold stethoscope.
“Have you been having pain?”
“I little,” he wheezed, feeling bile rise to the back of his throat again. “I’m gonna…”
He was swiftly turned and something was shoved under his chin. It was hard to bring up whatever was left in his stomach lying down, but more of the foul smelling gunk came up.
The paramedics were talking over his head as he was bundled onto a gurney and strapped down. He felt a pinch on the back of his wrist and realized they were starting an IV and panic surged through him again, but then Jim was there. He was moving through the restaurant, but Jim had grabbed his hand. “It’s going to be fine, you’ll see.”
They didn’t let Jim ride with him in the ambulance.
He tried not to work himself up anymore than he had already, but being unable to see his friend and not knowing what was going on scared the shit out of him.
The roar of the sirens died down and the ambulance slowed down, backing up into the ER bay. The doors swiftly opened and people began to pull out the bed he was laying on.
New faces surrounded him, the paramedic he had rode in with called out his vitals and pertinent information.
A man dressed in scrubs leaned over him and felt his belly and it was all he could do not to hurl again.
He was quickly stripped of his clothes. Someone else collected his things and stuffed them into a plastic bed. A thin sheet was unfurled and drifted down over his shivering body.
He cast his glance around, but still no Jim.
“How long ago since your surgery?”
It took a second or two for Blair to realize the doctor was talking to him.
“Ah…a little over a week ago. Dr. Ramanatha…”
“Call up to surgical and see if Ramanatha is on.”
Hands pressed into his belly again, but lower and then something cold touched him. “I’m just listening. Try to relax.”
The flurry of activity died down a little as a machine was rolled into the room. His bed was raised just a bit and an oxygen mask was pulled over his face. He glanced around the room, noting the glass panels and door between the section he was in and the others that looked like his.
“We’re gonna just take a look at your belly.”
Cold gel was squirted onto his stomach and a conductor was rolled though it. The doctor moved the wand around, stopping periodically and looking at the screen that sat a few feet away.
“Dr. Ramanatha is on her way down.” Someone announced as the wand was removed and his stomach was wiped.
His surgeon arrived, “Hello Mr. Sandburg. I just spoke to Jim and he told me what happened.”
Jim was finally here…where is he?
“Don’t worry, well figure out what’s going on.”
She turned to the man that was working on him and they stepped away as a nurse moved forward and helped him put on a gown.
His doctor looked at the pictures that were taken by the sonogram machine and then turned back to him. “We’re going to have to admit you…”
He was shaking his head no even before she got the rest of the words out.
“I know you’re upset and confused, Mr. Sandburg, but we need to keep an eye on you for a few days. It looks like you may have a partial bowel obstruction.”
He tensed up, dreading hearing what would come next.
“We’re going to treat you with IV antibiotics and a NG tube to give your stomach a rest. Hopefully that will clear up the blockage.”
He didn’t want to ask, but he needed to know. “What if that doesn’t work?”
“Then I’m afraid will have to use surgical intervention.”
*~*~*
Part Eleven
Author: Twilight
Summary: Blair has been putting something off for a long time and Jim's determined to find out why, but at what cost...
Feedback: Always welcome
Notes: This story has been suggested by my dear friend Romanse, yeah, she made me do it.
*origanally this was going to be the last part, but another idea formed in my slightly crazy brain and I couldn't let it go, so there will be at least one more part...maybe two.
Sorry it took so long to update, but it took awhile to rework the ending to fit in the new idea.
*~*~*
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Jim busied himself in the kitchen, slicing bananas and strawberries and putting them into the blender. He glanced up from his task to see Blair shifting uncomfortably on the sofa. “You want to lay down for awhile, Chief?”
“No, I want to stay out here.”
Jim nodded, adding ice and a splash of milk to the machine before turning it on. “How about lying on the couch for a bit? It’s a change of scenery and you can watch the TV, maybe take a nap.”
Blair hadn’t been sleeping well, restless most nights.
They’d been home for four days now and even though Blair had been following the doctors instructions, he still seemed worn down and…well sick.
He moved stiffly, as if afraid he could hurt himself just by walking from his bed to the couch. Jim had tried to get him outside into the sun, take a short walk, but Blair flat out refused.
Some days the trip to the bathroom seemed too much for his friend.
Jim heard a small sigh and then the shifting of Blair’s body over the roar of the blender. He didn’t move to help ease Blair down even though he itched to help.
He was trying hard to give Blair some space.
They hadn’t really talked about what had happened, Blair didn’t elaborate on the events and Jim didn’t ask.
It was enough to see the evidence of the surgery. The toll it took on Blair’s body, his inability to sleep well, the puffy and dark circles below dull blue eyes, the lines of pain around his mouth.
Jim felt like he was walking on glass or maybe a minefield.
He’d been tiptoeing around, not wanting to do anything to remind Blair of what had happened or to bring up painful memories with unwanted questions.
Blair would open up when he was ready.
So until he did, Jim made sure Blair rested as much as possible without being overbearing, made sure her ate without making a big deal about what was left on his plate, made sure he took his medicines and helped cleaned his drains, change his gauze.
Since coming home Blair had seemed a little withdrawn, staying in his room for much of the day and evening. Jim had brought him his meals, so he was happy that Blair had come to the dinner table and ate some soup.
He didn’t return to his room after dinner, instead settling on the couch. Since Blair hadn’t eaten much, Jim was making them both a smoothie because it was the one thing that Blair seemed to finish.
The phone rang so Jim’s flipped off the blender and picked up the phone. “Ellison…yeah, hang on. It’s for you, Chief.”
Blair sat up slowly, wincing a time or two. Jim handed him the phone and went back into the kitchen to pour out their dessert.
The conversation was short.
Blair was pale and sweaty as he flicked off the phone, tossing it to the other end of the sofa and then sinking back into the cushions.
Jim waited, already knowing the call was from Mercy’s administrator.
“They didn’t find anything.” Blair finally said. “The machine was functional and the paper work supports the dosage confirmed in the machines computer. But…”
Jim came into the living room and sat on the end of the couch, waiting.
“They ah, they want to settle. Want me to sign a waver stating the hospital and their personal claim no responsibility.”
“What do you want to do?” Jim asked after another minute of silence. “We could request an independent investigation.”
Blair shifted forward and stood on weak knees, grabbing his pillow and blanket. “No…I don’t want…their lawyer will call at the end of the week, so…”
Jim nodded standing and following Blair to his bedroom under the steps. “Ok, whatever you want…”
Tired eyes met Jim’s.
It just wasn’t fair that something like this could happen.
He knew Blair was only willing to settle because he didn’t want to relive it. The people that should have been doing the healing were doing the hurting…and not only physically, but emotionally.
Blair had been sullen and moody since he had come home and Jim had a feeling that it would be awhile before he saw Blair out of his bedroom again.
He didn’t know what to say, so Jim reverted to how he could help. “Ah, before you lay down how about we change your bandages.”
“I got it, man. Thanks” and then the door quietly closed on him.
“Damn.”
It was only a little before six, too early for bed.
Jim went into the kitchen and cleaned up the dishes, washing then drying then putting them away in the cabinet. He cleaned out the blender, put the smoothies he made in the fridge incase Blair come out of his room later and decided he wanted it.
Twenty minutes later he found himself on the couch, flipping through the channels. “This sucks…”
*~*~*
Blair sunk down onto the closed toilet seat, wincing as a twinge of pain shot through his belly.
He was still really sore and tired; really tired just from walking to the bathroom, even though he had spent most of the day in his bed.
At this point he was tired of being tired.
Carefully pulling at the Velcro that held his support belt in place, he unpinned the collection bag, noting that it was nearly empty, that the tubes carrying away the fluid from his wound had hardly any drainage.
It had only been a little over a week since his surgery and he knew that it would be at least another before the tubes came out.
Uncapping the collection bag, he dumped the contents into the measuring cup, noting the amount on a log he had to keep. Once the bag was empty, he squeezed the air out and recapped it, pinning it to the wide belt wrapped around his abdomen. He already had the alcohol and q-tips sitting on the counter around the sink. After dipping the cotton end into the fluid, he swabbed around the base of the tubes, where they were stitched into his skin.
“You okay in there, Chief?”
He could tell that his friend was standing right outside the door. “Yeah…just give me a minute.” He finished with the alcohol and q-tips, taping down clean pieces of gauze over the tubes. The surgical tape that covered his stitches was starting to fray on the edges and pulled at his skin, itched so bad, he couldn’t wait until they came out…he just wanted to get back to normal.
So much had happened but he was trying to move on, not dwell on any aspect, and just forget about it…that tactic had served him in the past.
It’s been hard though.
Every time he closed his eyes and started to drift toward sleep it all comes rushing back. Memories of the pain he suffered. The confusion and fear. Vivid details of that other place that he couldn’t escape. And it scared him that it was him, his own mind conjuring up the details to his own private hell.
Movement in the hall caught his attention. He stood, pulling his shirt down and cleaning up a little, disposing of the gunk in the measuring cup and cleaning it out.
When he opened the door the hall was empty, but he knew Jim wasn’t far away. If he called the man would be by his side in seconds. And that was kinda nice, he had to admit. That was the difference between then and now. Now he had a friend, he had Jim.
“How about we go out for dinner?” Jim was in the kitchen, looking through the fridge. Blair sat at the dinning table, still feeling some twinges near his belly button. He wasn’t hungry and didn’t really want to go out, but when Jim came into the room, he looked so hopeful.
“I guess that would be ok.” He said. It was time to get back to his normal routine.
They decided on Lindy’s by the docks. Blair order soup and pasta, not yet trusting his stomach. Over the past few days he went from running to the bathroom to not being able to go.
Jim had made a comment earlier about being up through the night, but Blair just blew it off. His bathroom habits shouldn’t be a topic of conversation.
“So,” Jim wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin and sat it on the table before picking up his glass. “I was thinking that if you’re feeling up to it, we can work on refinishing your bookcase this weekend.”
“Thanks. That would be great.” Blair pushed his food around his plate, his appetite gone. In fact his stomach was turning itself into knots. “I’m gonna…” he stood up, feeling flush and dizzy, but needing to go to the restroom. “I’ll be right back, man.”
He didn’t wait for Jim to acknowledge him, but hurried through the tables and down the hall that lead to the bathroom, but he didn’t make it to the door. Something sharp stabbed his belly and he doubled over and threw up in the hall. The greenish brown mess hit the hardwood floors, splashing over his sneakers and pant leg.
He could hear a commotion behind him, but couldn’t look as he continued to heave whatever was left in his stomach. A hand rubbed at his back, held is hair and finally he could hear Jim’s soothing voice. “It’s alright, Chief. Let it out.” Finally he stopped, gagging again on the smell and taste.
Someone handed him a wet towel so he wiped his lips and face, desperate to get the taste out of his mouth before it made him threw up again.
He was lead away from the mess and pushed down to the floor, turned to his side, his legs pushed up to take the strain off his stomach. Another wet towel was laid along the back of his neck and someone was holding his wrist.
“The ambulance is on the way, just relax.”
What…wait… He shook his head. “Noooo…I can’t Jim, please…”
“I know, Blair.” His friend sat behind him, his legs along Blair’s back. “It’s ok, you’re gonna be ok.”
He shook his head again. Shaking with fear and yet knowing he needed to calm down. Sweat broke out on his top lip and he felt hot. Pain near his belly button continued to throb and he was scared.
“What’s, what’s…”
The hand holding his tightened, “You need to go buddy. Something’s wrong, but they’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”
He knew he was breathing too fast, his heart beat triple time in his chest and he was freezing, lying on the hardwood floor near the kitchen entrance. People kept going back and forth and Blair could see the legs of the chefs and wait staff.
“You have to calm down, Blair. Take some nice deep breaths.”
He tried, but his panic ratcheted up another notch when the paramedics arrived.
Jim filled them in on his being sick and having belly pain, told them about the surgery and his doctor’s name.
He was rolled over and hands lifted his shirts and pressed into his stomach. “Have you been feeling sick before now?”
He shook his head, keeping his eyes tightly closed as someone put a blood pressure cuff around his arm, then listened to his chest and belly with a cold stethoscope.
“Have you been having pain?”
“I little,” he wheezed, feeling bile rise to the back of his throat again. “I’m gonna…”
He was swiftly turned and something was shoved under his chin. It was hard to bring up whatever was left in his stomach lying down, but more of the foul smelling gunk came up.
The paramedics were talking over his head as he was bundled onto a gurney and strapped down. He felt a pinch on the back of his wrist and realized they were starting an IV and panic surged through him again, but then Jim was there. He was moving through the restaurant, but Jim had grabbed his hand. “It’s going to be fine, you’ll see.”
They didn’t let Jim ride with him in the ambulance.
He tried not to work himself up anymore than he had already, but being unable to see his friend and not knowing what was going on scared the shit out of him.
The roar of the sirens died down and the ambulance slowed down, backing up into the ER bay. The doors swiftly opened and people began to pull out the bed he was laying on.
New faces surrounded him, the paramedic he had rode in with called out his vitals and pertinent information.
A man dressed in scrubs leaned over him and felt his belly and it was all he could do not to hurl again.
He was quickly stripped of his clothes. Someone else collected his things and stuffed them into a plastic bed. A thin sheet was unfurled and drifted down over his shivering body.
He cast his glance around, but still no Jim.
“How long ago since your surgery?”
It took a second or two for Blair to realize the doctor was talking to him.
“Ah…a little over a week ago. Dr. Ramanatha…”
“Call up to surgical and see if Ramanatha is on.”
Hands pressed into his belly again, but lower and then something cold touched him. “I’m just listening. Try to relax.”
The flurry of activity died down a little as a machine was rolled into the room. His bed was raised just a bit and an oxygen mask was pulled over his face. He glanced around the room, noting the glass panels and door between the section he was in and the others that looked like his.
“We’re gonna just take a look at your belly.”
Cold gel was squirted onto his stomach and a conductor was rolled though it. The doctor moved the wand around, stopping periodically and looking at the screen that sat a few feet away.
“Dr. Ramanatha is on her way down.” Someone announced as the wand was removed and his stomach was wiped.
His surgeon arrived, “Hello Mr. Sandburg. I just spoke to Jim and he told me what happened.”
Jim was finally here…where is he?
“Don’t worry, well figure out what’s going on.”
She turned to the man that was working on him and they stepped away as a nurse moved forward and helped him put on a gown.
His doctor looked at the pictures that were taken by the sonogram machine and then turned back to him. “We’re going to have to admit you…”
He was shaking his head no even before she got the rest of the words out.
“I know you’re upset and confused, Mr. Sandburg, but we need to keep an eye on you for a few days. It looks like you may have a partial bowel obstruction.”
He tensed up, dreading hearing what would come next.
“We’re going to treat you with IV antibiotics and a NG tube to give your stomach a rest. Hopefully that will clear up the blockage.”
He didn’t want to ask, but he needed to know. “What if that doesn’t work?”
“Then I’m afraid will have to use surgical intervention.”
*~*~*
Part Eleven