pear 27. "for the rest of your life"
pear 27. now & forever + butterscotch + sprinkles
story: second chances ; parent generation . wordcount: 3228. rating: pg.
"They haven't told us anything yet. This is a terrible hospital." Wherein there are too many people in this tiny room, no one really knows what diabetes is, and Jim can't tell if the worst part of his day is the life-changing news...or his family's behavior.
notes: Finally, the continuation of the blurry donuts piece! Jim and Carol are Mike's parents, as a reminder. The working title at the top of this doc was "THERE ARE SO MANY FRIKKIN PEOPLE IN THIS HOSPITAL ROOM AND THEY'RE ALL PISSED" lol. But it kind of took off from there.
When Jim opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Carol. She's leaning over him, inches from his face.
"Jim!" she exclaims. "Thank God you're awake! Your mother is driving me crazy."
Jim blinks several time; it takes a while for the rest of the room to come into focus. He's lying on his back and he's...in the hospital? He recognizes the antiseptic smell first, then the blank walls, the IV needle taped to his arm. His mother is there too, standing behind Carol, and managing somehow to look both sour and concerned. Cecil's standing on the other side of him.
"What-" Jim tries to ask, but it takes him a second to find his voice. "What happened?"
"You fainted," Cecil says.
"You were drifting in and out," his mother says. "Talking nonsense. We were worried."
"You're in the hospital," Carol says. Her fingers wrap find his hand under the sheet. She gives it a reassuring squeeze. "How are you feeling?"
Jim considers the question for a second: for someone lying in a hospital bed, he feels remarkably normal. Tired, yes. Groggy. But all things considered... "Fine, I think," he says. "Is Dad here?"
"He had some business to take care of," his mother says. "I'm sure he'll be here soon."
"My parents are here," Carol says. "They're just getting a doctor. We thought you were finally coming around."
Jim swallows. His throat feels a little bit dry. "Did...did anyone say what was wrong with me?"
His mother shakes her head. "They haven't told us anything yet. This is a terrible hospital."
"They said they ran some tests," Carol says. "We were waiting for you to come around-the doctor was supposed to come right back."
"I-" Jim starts to say, but-as if on cue-the curtain behind Carol slid aside with a zwip! and her parents appear at the foot of the bed.
"Jim!" Carol's father exclaims. "Welcome back to the land of the living, kiddo!" His voice is, as usual, loud and booming. It seems like almost too much for a hospital. Jim flinches unintentionally, and Michael Griggs is a little quieter when he asks, "How are you feeling?"
Jim's mother answers for him, sounding annoyed: "He said he's alright. How many times does he have to answer that?"
Michael's smile wavers for a second and he exchanges a look with his wife. Alice is the one who clears her throat and says, "Oh, of course. We're sorry."
"We were just getting the doctor," Michael says.
"Where's the doctor, then?" Cecil asks.
Alice glances over her shoulder. "He's on his way."
Carol has turned towards her parents and Jim isn't sure who he should be looking at right now. The room seems comically small for his mother, Cecil and Carol's family. And Jim's not the only one who notices.
"I don't see why you're all here in the first place," he hears his mother say.
"I asked them to come," says Carol. Her annoyance is thinly veiled. "I thought he might appreciate the support."
"Oh, of course," Jim's mother says. "Far be it he get that from his own family."
"Mom," Jim says.
Carol's father puts a hand his daughter's shoulder. "Come on, let's not fight about this-"
Before Carol can respond, Jim's mother has turned her ire to Michael. "And why do you think you're in charge of every situation you walk into?" she asks. She thrusts a finger towards Jim. "He's not your son, he's my son, so if you think-"
The curtain flaps open again. All heads turn to see the doctor, standing in the small space between the wall and Carol's parents.
"James Farrington?" he asks, glancing between Jim and his clipboard.
Jim looks quickly between the doctor and his mother, who's mouth is still open like she wants to keep talking. "Um, it's just Jim," he says.
"Hi, Jim, I'm Dr. Leavens." The doctor squeezes his way in between Cecil and Carol's mother. "How are you feeling?"
"All right, I guess," Jim says.
The doctor smiles, glancing back at Michael Griggs. "It must be a little reassuring to have the mayor advocating for you."
Jim laughs awkwardly. He tries not to look at his mother.
"We just want to make sure he's well taken care of," Michael says. "He's rather important to Miss Carol here."
"Da-ad," Carol says.
Jim's mother levels a scowl at the doctor. "Are you going to tell us what's wrong with him or are you just here to rub elbows?"
"Sorry," Jim says to Dr. Leavens quickly. "She's just upset."
Thankfully, his mother doesn't feel the need to contradict that.
"I understand," Dr. Leavens says. "Thank you for your patience, everyone. Now, Jim, you were admitted with severe hyperglycemia. It was a good thing you got in when you did-"
"Wait," Jim's mother interrupts, "he was admitted with what?"
"Hyperglycemia," Dr. Leavens says again, "high blood sugar. Typically the level of glucose in your blood shouldn't exceed 125, but Jim's was over 400. "
"High blood sugar," Jim's mother repeats. "We still don't know what that means."
Jim isn't following this either-'high blood sugar' doesn't seem like something like that should land you in the hospital-but he's not sure his mother's interruptions are helping. He glances at Carol and her family who are standing off to the side, all of them crossing their arms. They look about as confused as he feels.
"It means an excess of glucose in the blood," Dr. Leavens says. "It's what was making him sick."
Carol pipes up next: "But what causes high blood sugar?"
Dr. Leavens glanced back at Jim. "Jim-I don't want you to feel overwhelmed here. Do you want to speak in private?"
Jim's first thought is well, bad news and his second thought is let's get it over with. Swallowing, he shakes his head. "No, it's fine. Just tell me."
Dr. Leavens nods. "In your case," he says, "your hyperglycemia was caused by diabetes."
The doctor pauses, looking solemn. Jim glances around the sea of confused faces in the room; if the doctor's just dropped a bomb, he might as well have disguised it as a pink parasol.
"What?" Jim asks finally.
"You have diabetes," Dr. Leavens says. "I'm sorry, I wish I had better news for you."
That opens the flood gates.
"How bad of news is it?" Jim's mother asks.
"What is it?" Cecil asks.
"Are you sure about this?" Carol's father asks.
"Can you treat it?"
"What caused it?"
"Is he going to be okay?"
Jim loses track of who's asking the questions. And he hasn't formed a complete one himself yet. He thinks he's heard the word diabetes before, but it's hard to place, hard to connect to anything in his own life.
Dr. Leavens holds up his hands. "All right-slow down. I'll answer all your questions. Diabetes is a chronic condition but it is manageable with insulin therapy and a careful diet. We've given him an insulin injection to stabilize-"
"Why are you talking to him," Jim's mother interrupts, jabbing a finger at Michael Griggs, "and not us? We're the family."
The doctor looks taken aback. "I'm talking to all of you-"
"You've been talking to him since you came in the room-"
"Yelling at the doctor isn't going to help!" Carol snaps.
"Don't talk to my mother like that!" Cecil snaps at her.
Alice holds her hands out. "Will everyone please calm down and let the doctor talk?"
"We want a different doctor," Jim's mother says, "one who'll actually pay attention to the patient."
"Lydia, you're being unreasonable-"
"Don't tell her she's being unreasonable!"
"Don't you touch me!"
"I was just trying to-"
"Everyone, let's settle down-"
"You want to control something? Control your wife!"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Hey! What makes you think you can-"
"All right!" Dr. Leavens bellows. Both his hands are raised in the air, his clipboard attempting to separate Carol and Cecil. "This is innappropriate. This is a hospital. I'm going to have to ask everyone to leave right now."
For a second, it seems to work; the room is stunned into silence.
Then everyone starts to protest at once, until the noise level in the room is such that Jim has to cover his ears.
He very much wishes he could just walk out. He squeezes his eyes closed and tries to pretend he's somewhere else.
Until a security guard yanks the curtain aside and orders, in a voice that eclipses everyone else: "Everybody out now!"
Jim's not sure he's ever going to understand this.
He's gone from almost no knowledge about diabetes to a complete overload of information, more than he can possibly take in. Dr. Leavens is extremely patient-and fortunately, quick to wave off Jim's family's earlier performance-but Jim still has trouble following along. Before today, Jim couldn't have come up with what the pancreas was for if someone paid him ten thousand dollars. Though his pancreas is apparently good for nothing.
The whole diabetes thing seems needlessly complicated, so much measuring: measuring blood sugar, measuring insulin, having to learn the amount of carbohydrates in every food item he puts in his mouth. And all of it necessary just to stay alive. He's always been decent with numbers, but still-he can't see doing this every day, forever.
The word chronic keeps coming back to haunt him. Chronic, as in permanent, as in For The Rest Of His Life.
That's the part he can't quite accept. He keeps going back to the moment before the diagnosis, to the moment he woke up in the hospital and saw Carol and just felt lucky to be alive.
He feels less lucky now.
Dr. Leavens demonstrates how to test his blood level, how to prepare the insulin shot, how and where to inject. Jim supposes it's a good thing he's never been adverse to needles if he's going to be sticking himself multiple times a day, again, For The Rest Of His Life.
"We'll have you practice injections on an orange tomorrow," Dr. Leavens says. "You'll need to learn to give them to yourself before you leave the hospital."
On an orange. Sure, why not?
"How long am I going to be here?" Jim asks.
"We'll want a few days to monitor you and get your blood sugar stabilized. That'll give you a chance to get used to the new routine too-we don't want you to leave feeling overwhelmed."
A few days. Jim lets his head fall back against the pillow. "Is my family...um...is anyone allowed back here tonight?"
Dr. Leavens laughs. "We're going to adhere to the two visitor rule from now on, but yes. No one has been banned from the premises. Did you want me to see if your mother and brother are still here?"
"Actually...is Carol still here?"
"Oh, your girlfriend-of course. We'll check." Dr. Leavens glances down at his watch. "A nurse should be in with your dinner any second now, but there's no reason why Carol can't come keep you company until the end of visiting hours."
"Thanks," Jim says.
Dr. Leavens's smile looks sympathetic as he gets to his feet. "Just try to relax, Jim. Rest up. You've had quite a day."
"Thanks," Jim says. "And sorry again. For earlier."
"You don't have to apologize for that. I'm sure it's been a stressful day for your family too."
No, really, Jim wants to say, they're like that all the time. But he just nods and murmurs another thank-you as Dr. Leavens leaves the room. With a sigh, Jim rubs his thumb against the dark spot on the tip of his finger from the first of many, many blood tests.
Food and Carol will have to make things better.
Carol slips into the room shortly after the nurse comes in with the dinner tray, but Jim's already inhaled almost all the food. He felt like he hadn't eaten in days.
"Hi," Carol says quietly, standing with her hands in her pockets.
"Hey!" Jim wipes his mouth with his fist and swallows "I'm glad they let you back in."
"I know!" She grimaces. "Jesus Christ, I'm so embarrassed about that. I'm sorry, Jim. Really, sorry."
"Yeah, well...you know it was mostly my mom."
"Yeah..." She slides into one of the chairs beside the bed and scoots it closer. "I feel like I probably provoked her though. I was just really worried-I called your house and your dad said you were at the hospital and I didn't know what was going on. I didn't know anything until I got here."
"No one called you?"
Carol shakes her head. "No, it was just good timing."
Jim supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Though his memories of this morning are hazy at best and it seems like a very long time ago, he thinks he remembers his mother trying to talk up one of the neighbor girls. He's been seeing Carol for almost a year now and his mother will barely acknowledge it.
"So," Carol says, changing the subject, "what did they give you to eat?"
"I don't know, I think it was some kind of meat loaf thing." He pokes his fork into the few green beans left in one compartment of the tray. "It was fine though. I was hungry."
"That's probably good," Carol says. She touches his arm. "Means you're feeling better, right?"
"I suppose, yeah."
Jim stares at the green bean on the end of his fork for a long time before he sets it down and looks up at the ceiling.
"Carol," he says.
"Yeah?"
"I think rodeo is over for me."
He feels simultaneously crushed and relieved, saying it out loud like that. It's been there like a knot in his stomach this whole time. At least now it's out there.
"Aw, you don't know that," Carol says. "I don't know what the doctor said, but there's gotta be a way you can still ride if you want to."
Jim sighs, still looking at the ceiling lights; he doesn't want to look at Carol and see her looking back with pity. "I'm not sure if I want to," he says finally.
There's a long pause before Carol says, "Do you mean that?"
"I don't know."
"You'll have time to think about it."
"I've been thinking," Jim says. "I was thinking about Cecil's accident...everything that's happened with my family..." For a second he feels something bubble up in his throat, like he might start crying, but he swallows it back down.
"What?" Carol reaches for his hand. "What is it?"
Jim swallows again. "It feels like I'm being punished. Like I somehow deserve this."
"Don't be foolish, Jim. It's just biology."
There's something funny in the way she says it, just so matter-of-fact that he actually smiles. "Biology."
"Yep." Carol smiles too. "Biology. No divine retribution for you."
It does sound silly when she puts it like that, divine retribution. Was that what he was thinking? Something he'd heard from his parents, something he heard from church. He immediately liked Carol's explanation better.
"Okay," he says.
"Okay," Carol says. "And hey, I want to ask you something."
"Ask me what?"
"What are you gonna go when you get out of here?"
"You mean...if I'm not doing rodeo?"
"Well...what I actually meant was, are you just gonna go back to living with your family?"
He raises his eyebrows, not following. "I'm not sure what else I'd do."
Carol does the thing where she bites her bottom lip and smiles. He loves when she does that. "Well," she says, "if you go back to living with your family, how am I supposed to take care of you?"
Jim laughs. "Um, I'm hoping I'll be able to take care of myself."
"Come on," Carol says, "what if I really want to?"
"Well...I suppose. If you really want to."
"Seriously though," Carol says, lacing their fingers together. "I think you should move in with me-stay with me and my family for a while. We have plenty of space and we actually like you."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes, of course I'm serious."
"Wouldn't that be kind of...weird?"
"Why? My folks would be fine with it. Like I said, they like you."
"Yeah, but I can't just..." Well, why can't he? "It's not like we're married or..."
Carol laughs. "Well, do you want to get married?"
"I-wait-what-are you trying to trick me?"
"No! It was a serious question."
Jim lets himself collapse back against the pillows. "I don't think you should marry me," he says, after a moment's pause. "I'm clearly defective."
"Oh, right," Carol says. "In that case, forget it."
He shoots her a look.
"Hey," Carol says, "I'm in this for the long haul, if you want me. And I'll help you with whatever you need." She reaches for the cup on his hospital tray and turns the straw around towards him. "Here, I'll even hold your cup for you."
"Wow," Jim says, "thanks."
She ignores his tone. "What's in it anyway?"
"A very small amount of orange juice. Did you know that I have to count the carbohydrates in everything now? Everything I eat."
"Well...you might be on your own for the number stuff. But let me know where else I can help out."
Jim sighs, reaching for the juice cup. "You don't need to treat me like an invalid."
"I won't treat you like an invalid once you're out of the hospital. Until then, I make no promises."
Carol won't relinquish the cup, so he lets her offer him the rest of the juice, trying to look put-upon when he swallows. "Happy now?"
"Oh, very." She sets the cup back down on the tray and leans her elbow on the bed. "I love you, you know."
"I love you too."
"I'm glad you didn't die."
"So am I."
"You can think about my offer later," she says. "If you want to."
"I will," Jim says.
She pats his hand. "You seem pretty tired now."
He nods, stifling a yawn. "It's been a day."
"Here..." Carol reaches over to grab to the tray and sets it on the side table. "You want me to fluff your pillows or something?"
"I think the pillows are fine. Thanks."
She clicks off the bedside lamp; the overhead lights have gone dim. "Sure. Can you scoot over?"
"Oh! Okay." Minding the IV, Jim moves over to one side of the bed. Carol climbs in beside him, her hip wedged up against the rail. She kisses his cheek, then drops her chin to his shoulder.
"I figured I'd keep you company if that's okay," she says.
"I'd like that," Jim says. He loops his free arm around her shoulder. "I think visiting hours might've ended though."
"I'll stay until they come kick me out."
"Which will probably be soon."
"Shhh," she says, closing her eyes. "Enjoy it while it lasts."
Okay, can we talk about how long I was stuck on that diagnosis scene? Wait, no, let's not. It's shameful. The rest came fairly easily after that, but geeeez.
This isn't the last straw or anything between Jim and the rest of his family. They do wind up estranged, but it's a separate incident that cements that. Kinda seemed like just a matter of time though? I wish I had a better explanation for why they act like this, but I'm not sure there is one. His mom does eventually mellow out though. Like twenty years later.
And kudos to anyone who read all of this-I certainly didn't expect it to be so long!
story: second chances ; parent generation . wordcount: 3228. rating: pg.
"They haven't told us anything yet. This is a terrible hospital." Wherein there are too many people in this tiny room, no one really knows what diabetes is, and Jim can't tell if the worst part of his day is the life-changing news...or his family's behavior.
notes: Finally, the continuation of the blurry donuts piece! Jim and Carol are Mike's parents, as a reminder. The working title at the top of this doc was "THERE ARE SO MANY FRIKKIN PEOPLE IN THIS HOSPITAL ROOM AND THEY'RE ALL PISSED" lol. But it kind of took off from there.
When Jim opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Carol. She's leaning over him, inches from his face.
"Jim!" she exclaims. "Thank God you're awake! Your mother is driving me crazy."
Jim blinks several time; it takes a while for the rest of the room to come into focus. He's lying on his back and he's...in the hospital? He recognizes the antiseptic smell first, then the blank walls, the IV needle taped to his arm. His mother is there too, standing behind Carol, and managing somehow to look both sour and concerned. Cecil's standing on the other side of him.
"What-" Jim tries to ask, but it takes him a second to find his voice. "What happened?"
"You fainted," Cecil says.
"You were drifting in and out," his mother says. "Talking nonsense. We were worried."
"You're in the hospital," Carol says. Her fingers wrap find his hand under the sheet. She gives it a reassuring squeeze. "How are you feeling?"
Jim considers the question for a second: for someone lying in a hospital bed, he feels remarkably normal. Tired, yes. Groggy. But all things considered... "Fine, I think," he says. "Is Dad here?"
"He had some business to take care of," his mother says. "I'm sure he'll be here soon."
"My parents are here," Carol says. "They're just getting a doctor. We thought you were finally coming around."
Jim swallows. His throat feels a little bit dry. "Did...did anyone say what was wrong with me?"
His mother shakes her head. "They haven't told us anything yet. This is a terrible hospital."
"They said they ran some tests," Carol says. "We were waiting for you to come around-the doctor was supposed to come right back."
"I-" Jim starts to say, but-as if on cue-the curtain behind Carol slid aside with a zwip! and her parents appear at the foot of the bed.
"Jim!" Carol's father exclaims. "Welcome back to the land of the living, kiddo!" His voice is, as usual, loud and booming. It seems like almost too much for a hospital. Jim flinches unintentionally, and Michael Griggs is a little quieter when he asks, "How are you feeling?"
Jim's mother answers for him, sounding annoyed: "He said he's alright. How many times does he have to answer that?"
Michael's smile wavers for a second and he exchanges a look with his wife. Alice is the one who clears her throat and says, "Oh, of course. We're sorry."
"We were just getting the doctor," Michael says.
"Where's the doctor, then?" Cecil asks.
Alice glances over her shoulder. "He's on his way."
Carol has turned towards her parents and Jim isn't sure who he should be looking at right now. The room seems comically small for his mother, Cecil and Carol's family. And Jim's not the only one who notices.
"I don't see why you're all here in the first place," he hears his mother say.
"I asked them to come," says Carol. Her annoyance is thinly veiled. "I thought he might appreciate the support."
"Oh, of course," Jim's mother says. "Far be it he get that from his own family."
"Mom," Jim says.
Carol's father puts a hand his daughter's shoulder. "Come on, let's not fight about this-"
Before Carol can respond, Jim's mother has turned her ire to Michael. "And why do you think you're in charge of every situation you walk into?" she asks. She thrusts a finger towards Jim. "He's not your son, he's my son, so if you think-"
The curtain flaps open again. All heads turn to see the doctor, standing in the small space between the wall and Carol's parents.
"James Farrington?" he asks, glancing between Jim and his clipboard.
Jim looks quickly between the doctor and his mother, who's mouth is still open like she wants to keep talking. "Um, it's just Jim," he says.
"Hi, Jim, I'm Dr. Leavens." The doctor squeezes his way in between Cecil and Carol's mother. "How are you feeling?"
"All right, I guess," Jim says.
The doctor smiles, glancing back at Michael Griggs. "It must be a little reassuring to have the mayor advocating for you."
Jim laughs awkwardly. He tries not to look at his mother.
"We just want to make sure he's well taken care of," Michael says. "He's rather important to Miss Carol here."
"Da-ad," Carol says.
Jim's mother levels a scowl at the doctor. "Are you going to tell us what's wrong with him or are you just here to rub elbows?"
"Sorry," Jim says to Dr. Leavens quickly. "She's just upset."
Thankfully, his mother doesn't feel the need to contradict that.
"I understand," Dr. Leavens says. "Thank you for your patience, everyone. Now, Jim, you were admitted with severe hyperglycemia. It was a good thing you got in when you did-"
"Wait," Jim's mother interrupts, "he was admitted with what?"
"Hyperglycemia," Dr. Leavens says again, "high blood sugar. Typically the level of glucose in your blood shouldn't exceed 125, but Jim's was over 400. "
"High blood sugar," Jim's mother repeats. "We still don't know what that means."
Jim isn't following this either-'high blood sugar' doesn't seem like something like that should land you in the hospital-but he's not sure his mother's interruptions are helping. He glances at Carol and her family who are standing off to the side, all of them crossing their arms. They look about as confused as he feels.
"It means an excess of glucose in the blood," Dr. Leavens says. "It's what was making him sick."
Carol pipes up next: "But what causes high blood sugar?"
Dr. Leavens glanced back at Jim. "Jim-I don't want you to feel overwhelmed here. Do you want to speak in private?"
Jim's first thought is well, bad news and his second thought is let's get it over with. Swallowing, he shakes his head. "No, it's fine. Just tell me."
Dr. Leavens nods. "In your case," he says, "your hyperglycemia was caused by diabetes."
The doctor pauses, looking solemn. Jim glances around the sea of confused faces in the room; if the doctor's just dropped a bomb, he might as well have disguised it as a pink parasol.
"What?" Jim asks finally.
"You have diabetes," Dr. Leavens says. "I'm sorry, I wish I had better news for you."
That opens the flood gates.
"How bad of news is it?" Jim's mother asks.
"What is it?" Cecil asks.
"Are you sure about this?" Carol's father asks.
"Can you treat it?"
"What caused it?"
"Is he going to be okay?"
Jim loses track of who's asking the questions. And he hasn't formed a complete one himself yet. He thinks he's heard the word diabetes before, but it's hard to place, hard to connect to anything in his own life.
Dr. Leavens holds up his hands. "All right-slow down. I'll answer all your questions. Diabetes is a chronic condition but it is manageable with insulin therapy and a careful diet. We've given him an insulin injection to stabilize-"
"Why are you talking to him," Jim's mother interrupts, jabbing a finger at Michael Griggs, "and not us? We're the family."
The doctor looks taken aback. "I'm talking to all of you-"
"You've been talking to him since you came in the room-"
"Yelling at the doctor isn't going to help!" Carol snaps.
"Don't talk to my mother like that!" Cecil snaps at her.
Alice holds her hands out. "Will everyone please calm down and let the doctor talk?"
"We want a different doctor," Jim's mother says, "one who'll actually pay attention to the patient."
"Lydia, you're being unreasonable-"
"Don't tell her she's being unreasonable!"
"Don't you touch me!"
"I was just trying to-"
"Everyone, let's settle down-"
"You want to control something? Control your wife!"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Hey! What makes you think you can-"
"All right!" Dr. Leavens bellows. Both his hands are raised in the air, his clipboard attempting to separate Carol and Cecil. "This is innappropriate. This is a hospital. I'm going to have to ask everyone to leave right now."
For a second, it seems to work; the room is stunned into silence.
Then everyone starts to protest at once, until the noise level in the room is such that Jim has to cover his ears.
He very much wishes he could just walk out. He squeezes his eyes closed and tries to pretend he's somewhere else.
Until a security guard yanks the curtain aside and orders, in a voice that eclipses everyone else: "Everybody out now!"
Jim's not sure he's ever going to understand this.
He's gone from almost no knowledge about diabetes to a complete overload of information, more than he can possibly take in. Dr. Leavens is extremely patient-and fortunately, quick to wave off Jim's family's earlier performance-but Jim still has trouble following along. Before today, Jim couldn't have come up with what the pancreas was for if someone paid him ten thousand dollars. Though his pancreas is apparently good for nothing.
The whole diabetes thing seems needlessly complicated, so much measuring: measuring blood sugar, measuring insulin, having to learn the amount of carbohydrates in every food item he puts in his mouth. And all of it necessary just to stay alive. He's always been decent with numbers, but still-he can't see doing this every day, forever.
The word chronic keeps coming back to haunt him. Chronic, as in permanent, as in For The Rest Of His Life.
That's the part he can't quite accept. He keeps going back to the moment before the diagnosis, to the moment he woke up in the hospital and saw Carol and just felt lucky to be alive.
He feels less lucky now.
Dr. Leavens demonstrates how to test his blood level, how to prepare the insulin shot, how and where to inject. Jim supposes it's a good thing he's never been adverse to needles if he's going to be sticking himself multiple times a day, again, For The Rest Of His Life.
"We'll have you practice injections on an orange tomorrow," Dr. Leavens says. "You'll need to learn to give them to yourself before you leave the hospital."
On an orange. Sure, why not?
"How long am I going to be here?" Jim asks.
"We'll want a few days to monitor you and get your blood sugar stabilized. That'll give you a chance to get used to the new routine too-we don't want you to leave feeling overwhelmed."
A few days. Jim lets his head fall back against the pillow. "Is my family...um...is anyone allowed back here tonight?"
Dr. Leavens laughs. "We're going to adhere to the two visitor rule from now on, but yes. No one has been banned from the premises. Did you want me to see if your mother and brother are still here?"
"Actually...is Carol still here?"
"Oh, your girlfriend-of course. We'll check." Dr. Leavens glances down at his watch. "A nurse should be in with your dinner any second now, but there's no reason why Carol can't come keep you company until the end of visiting hours."
"Thanks," Jim says.
Dr. Leavens's smile looks sympathetic as he gets to his feet. "Just try to relax, Jim. Rest up. You've had quite a day."
"Thanks," Jim says. "And sorry again. For earlier."
"You don't have to apologize for that. I'm sure it's been a stressful day for your family too."
No, really, Jim wants to say, they're like that all the time. But he just nods and murmurs another thank-you as Dr. Leavens leaves the room. With a sigh, Jim rubs his thumb against the dark spot on the tip of his finger from the first of many, many blood tests.
Food and Carol will have to make things better.
Carol slips into the room shortly after the nurse comes in with the dinner tray, but Jim's already inhaled almost all the food. He felt like he hadn't eaten in days.
"Hi," Carol says quietly, standing with her hands in her pockets.
"Hey!" Jim wipes his mouth with his fist and swallows "I'm glad they let you back in."
"I know!" She grimaces. "Jesus Christ, I'm so embarrassed about that. I'm sorry, Jim. Really, sorry."
"Yeah, well...you know it was mostly my mom."
"Yeah..." She slides into one of the chairs beside the bed and scoots it closer. "I feel like I probably provoked her though. I was just really worried-I called your house and your dad said you were at the hospital and I didn't know what was going on. I didn't know anything until I got here."
"No one called you?"
Carol shakes her head. "No, it was just good timing."
Jim supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Though his memories of this morning are hazy at best and it seems like a very long time ago, he thinks he remembers his mother trying to talk up one of the neighbor girls. He's been seeing Carol for almost a year now and his mother will barely acknowledge it.
"So," Carol says, changing the subject, "what did they give you to eat?"
"I don't know, I think it was some kind of meat loaf thing." He pokes his fork into the few green beans left in one compartment of the tray. "It was fine though. I was hungry."
"That's probably good," Carol says. She touches his arm. "Means you're feeling better, right?"
"I suppose, yeah."
Jim stares at the green bean on the end of his fork for a long time before he sets it down and looks up at the ceiling.
"Carol," he says.
"Yeah?"
"I think rodeo is over for me."
He feels simultaneously crushed and relieved, saying it out loud like that. It's been there like a knot in his stomach this whole time. At least now it's out there.
"Aw, you don't know that," Carol says. "I don't know what the doctor said, but there's gotta be a way you can still ride if you want to."
Jim sighs, still looking at the ceiling lights; he doesn't want to look at Carol and see her looking back with pity. "I'm not sure if I want to," he says finally.
There's a long pause before Carol says, "Do you mean that?"
"I don't know."
"You'll have time to think about it."
"I've been thinking," Jim says. "I was thinking about Cecil's accident...everything that's happened with my family..." For a second he feels something bubble up in his throat, like he might start crying, but he swallows it back down.
"What?" Carol reaches for his hand. "What is it?"
Jim swallows again. "It feels like I'm being punished. Like I somehow deserve this."
"Don't be foolish, Jim. It's just biology."
There's something funny in the way she says it, just so matter-of-fact that he actually smiles. "Biology."
"Yep." Carol smiles too. "Biology. No divine retribution for you."
It does sound silly when she puts it like that, divine retribution. Was that what he was thinking? Something he'd heard from his parents, something he heard from church. He immediately liked Carol's explanation better.
"Okay," he says.
"Okay," Carol says. "And hey, I want to ask you something."
"Ask me what?"
"What are you gonna go when you get out of here?"
"You mean...if I'm not doing rodeo?"
"Well...what I actually meant was, are you just gonna go back to living with your family?"
He raises his eyebrows, not following. "I'm not sure what else I'd do."
Carol does the thing where she bites her bottom lip and smiles. He loves when she does that. "Well," she says, "if you go back to living with your family, how am I supposed to take care of you?"
Jim laughs. "Um, I'm hoping I'll be able to take care of myself."
"Come on," Carol says, "what if I really want to?"
"Well...I suppose. If you really want to."
"Seriously though," Carol says, lacing their fingers together. "I think you should move in with me-stay with me and my family for a while. We have plenty of space and we actually like you."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes, of course I'm serious."
"Wouldn't that be kind of...weird?"
"Why? My folks would be fine with it. Like I said, they like you."
"Yeah, but I can't just..." Well, why can't he? "It's not like we're married or..."
Carol laughs. "Well, do you want to get married?"
"I-wait-what-are you trying to trick me?"
"No! It was a serious question."
Jim lets himself collapse back against the pillows. "I don't think you should marry me," he says, after a moment's pause. "I'm clearly defective."
"Oh, right," Carol says. "In that case, forget it."
He shoots her a look.
"Hey," Carol says, "I'm in this for the long haul, if you want me. And I'll help you with whatever you need." She reaches for the cup on his hospital tray and turns the straw around towards him. "Here, I'll even hold your cup for you."
"Wow," Jim says, "thanks."
She ignores his tone. "What's in it anyway?"
"A very small amount of orange juice. Did you know that I have to count the carbohydrates in everything now? Everything I eat."
"Well...you might be on your own for the number stuff. But let me know where else I can help out."
Jim sighs, reaching for the juice cup. "You don't need to treat me like an invalid."
"I won't treat you like an invalid once you're out of the hospital. Until then, I make no promises."
Carol won't relinquish the cup, so he lets her offer him the rest of the juice, trying to look put-upon when he swallows. "Happy now?"
"Oh, very." She sets the cup back down on the tray and leans her elbow on the bed. "I love you, you know."
"I love you too."
"I'm glad you didn't die."
"So am I."
"You can think about my offer later," she says. "If you want to."
"I will," Jim says.
She pats his hand. "You seem pretty tired now."
He nods, stifling a yawn. "It's been a day."
"Here..." Carol reaches over to grab to the tray and sets it on the side table. "You want me to fluff your pillows or something?"
"I think the pillows are fine. Thanks."
She clicks off the bedside lamp; the overhead lights have gone dim. "Sure. Can you scoot over?"
"Oh! Okay." Minding the IV, Jim moves over to one side of the bed. Carol climbs in beside him, her hip wedged up against the rail. She kisses his cheek, then drops her chin to his shoulder.
"I figured I'd keep you company if that's okay," she says.
"I'd like that," Jim says. He loops his free arm around her shoulder. "I think visiting hours might've ended though."
"I'll stay until they come kick me out."
"Which will probably be soon."
"Shhh," she says, closing her eyes. "Enjoy it while it lasts."
Okay, can we talk about how long I was stuck on that diagnosis scene? Wait, no, let's not. It's shameful. The rest came fairly easily after that, but geeeez.
This isn't the last straw or anything between Jim and the rest of his family. They do wind up estranged, but it's a separate incident that cements that. Kinda seemed like just a matter of time though? I wish I had a better explanation for why they act like this, but I'm not sure there is one. His mom does eventually mellow out though. Like twenty years later.
And kudos to anyone who read all of this-I certainly didn't expect it to be so long!