RP LOG with learninghearts | Two hearts are better than one
[Follows THIS and THIS]
After talking Serena, and finding her friend had no information about where Dave might be, Aimee was really at a loss. She sat there at the desk staring at her phone for all of thirty seconds, before she got up and decided that positive action was better than none at all. There was nothing pressing with work, and she just needed to find him to make sure he was okay. She searched the obvious places first before heading outside. As soon as she spotted him sitting against a wall near one of the courtyard, she let out a heavy sigh of relief and hurried over to him. He had his knees drawn up and his head resting down on them, but she didn't hesitate in sitting down beside him and tucking her arm securely around him with a soft squeeze. She collected herself in her relief a little, biting back an urge to chastise him for running off because she knew it would just be out of fright and worry for him. "Hey, you scared the hell out of me back there," she told him quietly and started to rub his back with small, soothing strokes.
Dave lifted his head and looked at Aimee apologetically. "I'm sorry. I'm okay, I promise. I just..." His eyes fell closed again briefly and sighed softly himself. Her hand on his back actually felt really, really nice. He had lost track of how long he had been sitting there, but it didn't particularly matter. He couldn't have gotten up and gone back in there if he tried. He just needed the quiet for a bit longer. "If it's any consolation, I scared myself?" he added, even if it really wasn't going to be any consolation to her at all. In fact, it would probably just increase her concern ten-fold.
When Dave lifted his head to look at her, that was what caused her more concern than anything else. "You look terrible," she told him, pressing her hand over his forehead and cheeks to check for any fever. He was pale, though his cheeks were a little flushed and his eyes bloodshot like he hadn't slept in a week. He didn't feel feverish, just a little overheated from probably sitting out in the hot summer day. He was sweating heavily, and no protests came this time. He just let her continue with her fretful checking and she could feel his eyes on her face. She met his gaze, his face still cupped in her hand. "Look... sweetheart, I... I don't know what happened back there. It was like flicking a switch with you. I don't want to pry if you don't want to talk to me, but this is... it's the thing you have to talk to Chris about, right? That patient did something to you, but I just don't know what it is. I'm just worried about you. I- are you sick? No? Did you... lose someone close to you to cancer?"
"It's me," Dave murmured and he closed his eyes again, letting his head drop down a little in defeat. He had wanted to try and tell Chris first, feeling it was something his best mate should know. Time had just been badly against them, with Chris having so much going on both at work and with Rick. There hadn't been time. The time that Dave did have, Chris didn't take it well. He had listened over drinks, looked oddly blank, like maybe he wasn't absorbing what Dave was saying, and then proceeded to get extremely drunk, leading to him not remembering anything anyway. It had been hard enough for Dave to talk about once, let alone on rewind. It didn't mean he didn't want Chris to know, it just wasn't easy for him. But now this, it had dragged it all back to the forefront, and he couldn't leave Aimee in the dark. They were dating now, and she was special to him. The only reason he had concealed it so far was Chris, but it had come to the crunch. He wasn't going to lie to her. He just hoped Chris would understand when the time came. "I... had it. Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Nine months in remission and counting. I was sick for about eighteen months before that. It's my main reason for returning to Florida. I wanted to be close to home, I wanted to be somewhere I was happy. When I heard the patient had heart failure from the cancer, it was just... too much. It brought it all back."
Aimee felt a lot like someone had just tipped icy water down her back. For a long few moments, she just stared at him in shock, her blue eyes wide as she worked to absorb his confession. She was going to say something, but words failed her and she just rested her foreheard against his and held him, brushing her thumb back and forth across his arm. "It's okay," she whispered. "You're okay, I'm glad you're okay. Are you? The remission, it's... I know the odds, you still have to deal with that. I... I... I'm sorry. I want to say more, but I just need to know you're okay," she said, realising she was getting teary.
Dave wrapped his arm around her and pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips. "I'm okay, or I will be. Right now, maybe not so much. I freaked, had a panic attack, now I just feel sick and exhausted," he admitted, really just wanting to be horizontal on the nearest flat surface... or maybe curled up in the fetal position with a pile of covers to hide beneath. "They say there is a high risk of it coming back in the first two years following remission. I just take extra care of myself, eat well, get as much sleep as I can, stay fit. I have to see a doctor regularly for check ups, and even the slightest hint of illness leads to strings of blood tests and scans. The slightest hint of illness also practically gives me a stroke, too. I can't help it. I get worried and I'm overly cautious. The first week I was here, I had a stomach bug. Luckily I had come with a referral to an Oncologist here already, and she got me straight in. Took some tests, but everything was fine. Stomach things are especially nervy for me because I had an abdominal tumour. It was surgically removed with a small part of my bowel. Ironically, though, the first up initial symptoms felt just like I had the flu. Fever, some aches and pains, swollen glands. I wrote it off as the flu for about three or four weeks, but it wouldn't go away. My doctor took blood and... the rest is history."
"Does anyone here know?" Aimee asked him, still watching him closely in concern. She brushed her fingers through his hair to smooth it down where it was sticking up from his surgical cap. "You need to go home to lie down, you're not well. It doesn't matter why you aren't. Everything is sorted with the patient. The social workers have come to talk to her family, and all the paperwork is done. I'm going to take you home. I'm glad you told me, sweetheart. This isn't something you should sit on and try to deal with alone. If we're going to be spending time together, I need to know in case you aren't okay. And now I do. I just want you to tell me if you're ever not feeling okay. Promise? I can tell a little when you're off your game, but I don't want to be a pest. For anything, if you're not feeling well, you tell me, and I'll take care of you. We can be overly cautious and nervy together. Deal? To be honest, I did notice the surgical scar on your belly when we had sex, but I just assumed it was an appendectomy with complications or something. I noticed it goes down lower that normal, at an awkward angle. The surgery... the chemo? It must've been really tough on you. Please tell me you weren't alone. I know you didn't tell Chris, but you weren't alone, right?"
"Proctor knows," Dave said softly, biting his lip briefly. "He interviewed me because he had just stepped in as head of Trauma. It was over the phone, and I agreed to meet him in person once I got to Miami. I didn't have any choice but to tell him because it was basically a glitch on my medical check. I would have told him anyway, but he just wanted to make sure I was physically capable of a job like MT1. I am, maybe ninety percent of the time. There will be the odd day here and there when the exhaustion sets in and I need a timeout. My body is weakened from the cancer, and it might never be the same as it was before again, but I'm healthy. All cards on the table with Proctor, and he was fine with it. Just asked me to tell him if I feel I need a break. I'll talk to him. No doubt he's already heard about my meltdown," he said wryly, feeling an embarrassed heat creep into his cheeks.
"Serena also knows," he continued, "but only because I had to talk to someone that night Chris heard about his brother. You can see now why it was stressing me out so much. He didn't take hearing about Rick so well, and I still had to tell him my bad news?" He shook his head helplessly. "I promise I'll tell you, and I wasn't alone, no. My family came over to LA. My parents stayed the whole time, and my sisters came and went as they could. It was rough. It was horrible. I had a bad time with the chemo. Some people are okay with it, but it knocked me every single time. The only reason I didn't tell Chris is because I know him... he would have wanted to drop everything and come. He needed to be here. He's worked hard to get where he is. I didn't want him risking that. I could never have forgiven myself if his career got screwed up because of me."
Aimee cupped his face again and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. "I know you have probably heard this a million times, and probably think it's pointless, but... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you had to go through this, and that you have to live in constant underlying fear that you might get sick again. I'm sorry that you care about your best mate so much you felt you couldn't tell him to protect him. Because I've only known you a short time, but it's enough to know that you would have preferred to have Chris with you. But sometimes life just sucks."
"But it's still life," Dave pointed out with a faint, tired smile. "I'm still alive. All that... a small price to pay. I don't wake up every morning thinking, fuck, this could be the day it comes back. I wake up thinking, fuck, what another great day. Not that I wake up thinking every day is great, because that is just freakish. I just don't take as many things for granted. I know if I'm not feeling well, it's my body telling me to stop. Hardest thing to learn was that I'm still me. I still get upset when I lose a patient, I still don't like feeling sick, I don't like getting rained on, I don't like when my car fucks up. I'm the same as everyone else, I'm not the cancer dude. I'm not someone who nearly died, I'm someone who was sick and got better. But I am a guy who got scared that any girl I met and had feelings for would get scared by the prospect that I might have been the cancer dude who nearly died. You've made me realise I didn't need to be scared at all," he told her as he curled the ends of her hair around his fingers affectionately with a smile.
Aimee wanted to cry, and his words did get her a little teary again. She was relieved to see him smile, and she laughed with a hint of shyness and gave him a soft kiss. "So, Dr He Who Did Not Die," she joked, seeing now that he would appreciate the lighter side of his experience. He didn't want it to be a negative blight on his life. "What's your medical opinion on sexual healing?"
"I think naked with a sexy woman is always effective medicine," Dave murmured back in amusement. He knew it was a joke, he wasn't up to anything remotely sexual, but the banter was appreciated. He pulled her into a hug, closing his eyes as he rested his head against her shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered to her when the emotional pain from the tough day crept back up inside him.
Aimee just held him securely and rubbed his back. "I promise, if you get rained on, I'll give you a towel, and if your car fucks up, I'll hold the tools for you..." she whispered back. She paused, squeezing him just a little bit tighter like, even this soon, she was scared to let him go. "And if you get sick... again... w-we'll be scared together."
Word Count | 2,257
After talking Serena, and finding her friend had no information about where Dave might be, Aimee was really at a loss. She sat there at the desk staring at her phone for all of thirty seconds, before she got up and decided that positive action was better than none at all. There was nothing pressing with work, and she just needed to find him to make sure he was okay. She searched the obvious places first before heading outside. As soon as she spotted him sitting against a wall near one of the courtyard, she let out a heavy sigh of relief and hurried over to him. He had his knees drawn up and his head resting down on them, but she didn't hesitate in sitting down beside him and tucking her arm securely around him with a soft squeeze. She collected herself in her relief a little, biting back an urge to chastise him for running off because she knew it would just be out of fright and worry for him. "Hey, you scared the hell out of me back there," she told him quietly and started to rub his back with small, soothing strokes.
Dave lifted his head and looked at Aimee apologetically. "I'm sorry. I'm okay, I promise. I just..." His eyes fell closed again briefly and sighed softly himself. Her hand on his back actually felt really, really nice. He had lost track of how long he had been sitting there, but it didn't particularly matter. He couldn't have gotten up and gone back in there if he tried. He just needed the quiet for a bit longer. "If it's any consolation, I scared myself?" he added, even if it really wasn't going to be any consolation to her at all. In fact, it would probably just increase her concern ten-fold.
When Dave lifted his head to look at her, that was what caused her more concern than anything else. "You look terrible," she told him, pressing her hand over his forehead and cheeks to check for any fever. He was pale, though his cheeks were a little flushed and his eyes bloodshot like he hadn't slept in a week. He didn't feel feverish, just a little overheated from probably sitting out in the hot summer day. He was sweating heavily, and no protests came this time. He just let her continue with her fretful checking and she could feel his eyes on her face. She met his gaze, his face still cupped in her hand. "Look... sweetheart, I... I don't know what happened back there. It was like flicking a switch with you. I don't want to pry if you don't want to talk to me, but this is... it's the thing you have to talk to Chris about, right? That patient did something to you, but I just don't know what it is. I'm just worried about you. I- are you sick? No? Did you... lose someone close to you to cancer?"
"It's me," Dave murmured and he closed his eyes again, letting his head drop down a little in defeat. He had wanted to try and tell Chris first, feeling it was something his best mate should know. Time had just been badly against them, with Chris having so much going on both at work and with Rick. There hadn't been time. The time that Dave did have, Chris didn't take it well. He had listened over drinks, looked oddly blank, like maybe he wasn't absorbing what Dave was saying, and then proceeded to get extremely drunk, leading to him not remembering anything anyway. It had been hard enough for Dave to talk about once, let alone on rewind. It didn't mean he didn't want Chris to know, it just wasn't easy for him. But now this, it had dragged it all back to the forefront, and he couldn't leave Aimee in the dark. They were dating now, and she was special to him. The only reason he had concealed it so far was Chris, but it had come to the crunch. He wasn't going to lie to her. He just hoped Chris would understand when the time came. "I... had it. Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Nine months in remission and counting. I was sick for about eighteen months before that. It's my main reason for returning to Florida. I wanted to be close to home, I wanted to be somewhere I was happy. When I heard the patient had heart failure from the cancer, it was just... too much. It brought it all back."
Aimee felt a lot like someone had just tipped icy water down her back. For a long few moments, she just stared at him in shock, her blue eyes wide as she worked to absorb his confession. She was going to say something, but words failed her and she just rested her foreheard against his and held him, brushing her thumb back and forth across his arm. "It's okay," she whispered. "You're okay, I'm glad you're okay. Are you? The remission, it's... I know the odds, you still have to deal with that. I... I... I'm sorry. I want to say more, but I just need to know you're okay," she said, realising she was getting teary.
Dave wrapped his arm around her and pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips. "I'm okay, or I will be. Right now, maybe not so much. I freaked, had a panic attack, now I just feel sick and exhausted," he admitted, really just wanting to be horizontal on the nearest flat surface... or maybe curled up in the fetal position with a pile of covers to hide beneath. "They say there is a high risk of it coming back in the first two years following remission. I just take extra care of myself, eat well, get as much sleep as I can, stay fit. I have to see a doctor regularly for check ups, and even the slightest hint of illness leads to strings of blood tests and scans. The slightest hint of illness also practically gives me a stroke, too. I can't help it. I get worried and I'm overly cautious. The first week I was here, I had a stomach bug. Luckily I had come with a referral to an Oncologist here already, and she got me straight in. Took some tests, but everything was fine. Stomach things are especially nervy for me because I had an abdominal tumour. It was surgically removed with a small part of my bowel. Ironically, though, the first up initial symptoms felt just like I had the flu. Fever, some aches and pains, swollen glands. I wrote it off as the flu for about three or four weeks, but it wouldn't go away. My doctor took blood and... the rest is history."
"Does anyone here know?" Aimee asked him, still watching him closely in concern. She brushed her fingers through his hair to smooth it down where it was sticking up from his surgical cap. "You need to go home to lie down, you're not well. It doesn't matter why you aren't. Everything is sorted with the patient. The social workers have come to talk to her family, and all the paperwork is done. I'm going to take you home. I'm glad you told me, sweetheart. This isn't something you should sit on and try to deal with alone. If we're going to be spending time together, I need to know in case you aren't okay. And now I do. I just want you to tell me if you're ever not feeling okay. Promise? I can tell a little when you're off your game, but I don't want to be a pest. For anything, if you're not feeling well, you tell me, and I'll take care of you. We can be overly cautious and nervy together. Deal? To be honest, I did notice the surgical scar on your belly when we had sex, but I just assumed it was an appendectomy with complications or something. I noticed it goes down lower that normal, at an awkward angle. The surgery... the chemo? It must've been really tough on you. Please tell me you weren't alone. I know you didn't tell Chris, but you weren't alone, right?"
"Proctor knows," Dave said softly, biting his lip briefly. "He interviewed me because he had just stepped in as head of Trauma. It was over the phone, and I agreed to meet him in person once I got to Miami. I didn't have any choice but to tell him because it was basically a glitch on my medical check. I would have told him anyway, but he just wanted to make sure I was physically capable of a job like MT1. I am, maybe ninety percent of the time. There will be the odd day here and there when the exhaustion sets in and I need a timeout. My body is weakened from the cancer, and it might never be the same as it was before again, but I'm healthy. All cards on the table with Proctor, and he was fine with it. Just asked me to tell him if I feel I need a break. I'll talk to him. No doubt he's already heard about my meltdown," he said wryly, feeling an embarrassed heat creep into his cheeks.
"Serena also knows," he continued, "but only because I had to talk to someone that night Chris heard about his brother. You can see now why it was stressing me out so much. He didn't take hearing about Rick so well, and I still had to tell him my bad news?" He shook his head helplessly. "I promise I'll tell you, and I wasn't alone, no. My family came over to LA. My parents stayed the whole time, and my sisters came and went as they could. It was rough. It was horrible. I had a bad time with the chemo. Some people are okay with it, but it knocked me every single time. The only reason I didn't tell Chris is because I know him... he would have wanted to drop everything and come. He needed to be here. He's worked hard to get where he is. I didn't want him risking that. I could never have forgiven myself if his career got screwed up because of me."
Aimee cupped his face again and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. "I know you have probably heard this a million times, and probably think it's pointless, but... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you had to go through this, and that you have to live in constant underlying fear that you might get sick again. I'm sorry that you care about your best mate so much you felt you couldn't tell him to protect him. Because I've only known you a short time, but it's enough to know that you would have preferred to have Chris with you. But sometimes life just sucks."
"But it's still life," Dave pointed out with a faint, tired smile. "I'm still alive. All that... a small price to pay. I don't wake up every morning thinking, fuck, this could be the day it comes back. I wake up thinking, fuck, what another great day. Not that I wake up thinking every day is great, because that is just freakish. I just don't take as many things for granted. I know if I'm not feeling well, it's my body telling me to stop. Hardest thing to learn was that I'm still me. I still get upset when I lose a patient, I still don't like feeling sick, I don't like getting rained on, I don't like when my car fucks up. I'm the same as everyone else, I'm not the cancer dude. I'm not someone who nearly died, I'm someone who was sick and got better. But I am a guy who got scared that any girl I met and had feelings for would get scared by the prospect that I might have been the cancer dude who nearly died. You've made me realise I didn't need to be scared at all," he told her as he curled the ends of her hair around his fingers affectionately with a smile.
Aimee wanted to cry, and his words did get her a little teary again. She was relieved to see him smile, and she laughed with a hint of shyness and gave him a soft kiss. "So, Dr He Who Did Not Die," she joked, seeing now that he would appreciate the lighter side of his experience. He didn't want it to be a negative blight on his life. "What's your medical opinion on sexual healing?"
"I think naked with a sexy woman is always effective medicine," Dave murmured back in amusement. He knew it was a joke, he wasn't up to anything remotely sexual, but the banter was appreciated. He pulled her into a hug, closing his eyes as he rested his head against her shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered to her when the emotional pain from the tough day crept back up inside him.
Aimee just held him securely and rubbed his back. "I promise, if you get rained on, I'll give you a towel, and if your car fucks up, I'll hold the tools for you..." she whispered back. She paused, squeezing him just a little bit tighter like, even this soon, she was scared to let him go. "And if you get sick... again... w-we'll be scared together."
Word Count | 2,257