December: Chapter 6
Moving out of ICU after only a couple of days was supposed to be a good thing, but to Adam it just meant a lot of jostling, a lot of people talking, weird smells that made him nauseated and having to wait ungodly amounts of time for Tylenol, not whatever hardcore painkiller they had given him earlier on.
Maybe they forgot it was only days ago that Adam had his head cut open. But Adam knew the truth. They did know. It just didn’t matter.
Adam still couldn’t really stay awake for very long, and he couldn’t really keep track of the time. Neil had taken it upon himself to be even more irritating than usual, and was insisting that he eat, open cards, whatever, with his left hand. Which was ridiculous. But Adam was pretty sure Neil was just taking cues from their dad, who was still eager to wake up his paralyzed side. When Adam looked to his mom for help, she told him to listen to his father.
That’s when Adam knew this thing had to be bad. He couldn’t say why. He couldn’t say a lot of things. It was just a sense he had, through the lingering awful headache, and the knowledge that nothing in his life would be the same again.
“Hey, good-lookin’” Katy greeted, with Tyler and Alisan at her side.
And Adam really did look good, especially compared to the first night. He was more alert, he smiled more, that kind of thing. Katy was sure he wasn’t going to like whoever had to shave his head in a hurry, because soon, he was going to have strawberry blonde coming in on the right side, and black on the rest. The hair he had left was alternately matted and stuck up at weird angles. His blue eyes were dull in the hospital lighting, and he still looked pale and too thin, but with the days that passed, Katy thought, he was looking more and more like Adam.
Adam perked up. These ladies brightened any room they came into.
“Hey, how are you guys?” he asked, raising the head of his bed.
“We’re cool,” Tyler answered, leaning in to press a kiss to Adam’s cheek.
He wrinkled his nose. “Which one of you stinks?” he asked, not able to hide his disgust. Adam suddenly had the unfortunate ability to have his sense of smell altered so that even normal every day scents - chips, lotion, or coffee - had the power to make him unbelievably nauseous.
“Ooh, that’s my new lotion. Cucumber melon,” Tyler apologized. “Let me go wash it off. I’ll be right back,” she said and excused herself.
“So, they kicked you out of ICU?” Alisan asked easily, reclining in one of the chairs that Adam knew was worthless and uncomfortable, because his dad had told him so - with a few other descriptors for a good measure.
“Yeah, I guess they’re sick of me there…” Adam answered wincing as pain throbbed through his head.
“What can I do?” Katy asked, stepping up and holding Adam’s other hand that wasn’t numb.
“My head hurts, but it takes a damn year to get Tylenol here. Plus it doesn’t do shit.”
“Well, press your button, and if they don’t make quick work of getting their butts in here, Ty, Alisan and I’ll go light a fire under them.”
Only Tyler caught the perplexed look on Adam’s face at the figure of speech Katy used. She was back beside Adam’s bed in no time, engaging him in conversation about the cards on his wall that seemed to mate and multiply overnight. Whenever Adam was bored, somebody would go to the wall and read selected well-wishes from the massive collection. He had a fondness for the dirty ones, sent by friends Tyler had only heard of and never met. But Alisan cackled knowingly at what seemed to be a million inside jokes.
“So, has Allison been here?”
Adam blinked, sure this was a trick question. “You’re right here,” he said, staring at Alisan pointedly.
“Iraheta,” Tyler supplied, hoping the last name could clarify things.
“Oh, yeah, she was here. And I think she’s coming back sometime soon. Ow… Damn it… See?” he said, sending an accusatory look Katy’s way. “I told you. Years.”
“I’ll take care of it,” she reassured. It had been twenty minutes. There was no way someone who had brain surgery days before should be on just Tylenol anyway, but if he had to be, he sure as hell shouldn’t have to wait twenty minutes to get it. This wasn’t a normal headache.
“Excuse me,” she said, loud enough that the remaining girls and Adam could hear. “Room 214 is still waiting on Tylenol. It’s been almost a half-hour,” Katy said sternly.
“Wouldn’t want to be in trouble with her…” Alisan muttered.
“I have been. It’s not fun,” Adam interjected.
When Tylenol was finally delivered, and Adam felt a little relief, he found himself exhausted, drifting off as Alisan and Tyler excused themselves.
Katy stayed. And Adam took comfort in the fact that he wasn’t alone.
--
Later that evening, after a dinner of chicken nuggets that Adam ate awkwardly, Allison returned, a gift in hand. Kris was there, too. And there was bickering. They both wanted to spend the night, but ideally only one of them should. Adam didn’t care either way, he just hated being left by himself, especially at night.
“Look, Alli, they only have one cot in here,” Kris pointed out. “I’m pretty sure it’s the perfect size for me.”
“You’re a dad now,” Allison protested, “You should go like, raise your children, or something,” she scoffed.
Kris laughed. “Katy’s with them, and they’re being looked after. Adam, who do you want to stay overnight?” Kris asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” he answered honestly. “I just don’t want to be by myself. Can I have that? Or are you having it until I decide?” he joked, trying to smile.
“If I sleep on the floor!” Allison exclaimed too loudly.
“Girl, this is a hospital. The floor is nasty. Now stop, or I’ll ask Katy to sleep on the cot and you two will go in the waiting room.”
“Okay, okay…” Allison sighed. “Here.” She held out the small wrapped package with a little flourish.
Adam took the package, right-handed. He set the gift in his lap and started trying to tear strips of paper from the package with his good hand, his other one lying at his side.
“Go on and use both hands,” Kris encouraged, knowing by now that the goal was to restore function, if not sensation to Adam’s affected side.
“Oh, why don’t you try and use both of your fucking hands when one’s a fucking dead weight?” Adam spat, his tone dark. But even so, he managed to get his left hand on top of the package and use it as an anchor to hold the object in place.
By the time Adam was done opening the tiny present, he was exhausted. He stared at the tiny unfamiliar item in his lap.
“What is it.” he demanded tiredly.
Adam didn’t actually care what it was. Not really. It was too small to do anything with, and it had weird writing that he couldn’t understand.
“Oh,” Allison stuttered. “It’s a keychain. From Brazil. Cool, huh?” she asked, trying a little too hard to be optimistic. Adam’s reaction hurt, but she knew rationally that he probably couldn’t look at a keychain with a whole lot of excitement. He wouldn’t be driving for a while, that was for sure.
“Yeah. Cool. Thanks,” Adam answered, without enthusiasm.
In the end, Allison left, letting Kris stay with Adam for the night. She knew he didn’t mean anything by his reaction, but it was clear he was very different now. He didn’t ask how her tour was or make sure she was behaving. He didn’t joke around, and he didn’t even act like he wanted her to hug him when she came in. She knew he couldn’t help these things, but it was still hard. Allison just needed to give herself time to adjust.
--
“So, it’s been a long time since this, huh?” Kris asked softly in the dark.
“Yeah…since the show, right? Or no, Costa Rica? We shared the guest house bunk beds,” Adam remembered.
“Yeah,” Kris confirmed. “So…how are you doing with all this?” he wondered carefully, curious if Adam would answer.
“It’s crazy…and weird and annoying as hell,” Adam admitted softly. “It’s like, my body turned on me. Now, I can’t move… Sometimes, I can’t think of the words I want to say,” he admitted.
Kris hummed sympathetically into the dark, from his cot in the corner. It had been fun showing Adam his new pajamas, and watching Adam’s eyebrows raise in approval. It was these small things that let Kris know that Adam was still Adam.
“It sucks, Kris,” Adam whispered. “I don’t want to live the rest of my life like this. I know what the doctor said. I asked my dad. The chance of me getting back to the way I was isn’t very good.”
“But there’s still a chance,” Kris reminded him, determined. “And hey, you live to break the mold and piss people off. Here’s a whole lot of nurses, a neurosurgeon or whatever, they’ve all diagnosed and decided what your future will be. If you work your ass off, I bet you can prove every one of them wrong.”
“Thanks, Kris. I’ll try,” Adam said, finally able to relax and get some rest.