Ordinary, chapter 29

Jul 28, 2012 08:39

summary: Ian is diagnosed with cancer. In this chapter, Ian visits the doctor.
warnings: sadness and foul language
rating: pg-13



Ordinary, chapter twenty nine
  Tuesday brought violent illness for Ian. He spent his day in pain, luckily not needing to film, but unluckily finding himself in many unpleasant situations. 
  Groggy and sleepless in the morning, vomiting all day, cramping all night. He spent his time alone in a haze of pain, until Doctor Marrow called, and requested he visit the office.
  So on Wednesday, after filming, Ian sat in his least favorite chair in the world, feeling cold and nauseous, waiting for his Doctor to enter the white room. Marrow stepped in only a few minutes after Ian's arrival, not making him wait long, and greeted him politely, but not with joy. He had tried to remain unattached to his patient from the beginning, fearing the too familiar sadness that came with cancer, and thus far had only given him massive amounts of his help, respect, and pity.
  "Good afternoon, Mr. Hecox." Marrow began, after shaking his hand and sitting behind his desk. "I called you to discuss, well, the end. I want to prepare you."
  Ian let out a rattled sigh. "Okay, tell me what we need to do."
  Marrow spoke delicately, but still business-like. "Well, I hate to be frank, but you could die any day now."
  The words didn't feel like as much of a shock as they once were, but he still found them hard to absorb. He knew he had to die, he knew there was no stopping it, but he didn't want to; he wished, childishly, that he had never gotten cancer. 
  "So I'd like you to be ready for what's going to happen. I guarantee your last few days will be bloody. I'm sure you've been feeling tired lately, and that will increase. You'll feel more sick in general. The pain...will increase, but not too much." Marrow spelled out the future illnesses for his patient, looking down at Ian's file. "I recommend you check into the hospital in-in the end, when you feel it's-it's time."
  "I-I can't go to the hospital." Ian interrupted, anxious.
  Marrow gave him a pointed look. "Mr. Hecox, I guarantee that your death will be very traumatic if you're not in this hospital. Having medical aid-"
  "I won't stay here. The visits are bad enough." Ian refused firmly. He did not want to be surrounded by the cold, white walls for too long. His eyes already strained from his few minutes in the bright, white office, and he disliked the thought of the hospital bed, and the whole place in general. 
  Marrow sighed, then spoke again with his eyes fixed at a spot over Ian's right shoulder. "Alright." he gave in. "But please, call an ambulance when...when you think you're at the end. I'd like you to be close to the hospital, and myself, just so we can-can ease you into death." It was important to say, but it was a struggle.
  Ian gulped, and felt tears fill his eyes. He nodded: it was all happening so fast. He wasn't a fan of hospitals, but was sadly aware that he needed his, he needed to be there. 
  Doctor Marrow sighed, and looked from the space behind Ian, to down at his hands, neatly folded atop his desk. He swallowed heavily. "Mr. Hecox- Ian- I'm so sorry, for everything you're going through, for every bit of pain we have to put you through in order- in order to ease this burden for you." 
  He had tears in his eyes, tears Ian had not seen since he was diagnosed, six months and two days ago. His doctor's heavy sadness sent a rush of emotions flooding through him, and he felt his own tears rising in his eyes, threatening to spill over. His doctor saw this, and his sadness grew, until he spoke again, breaking the short silence.
  "And...I'm sorry for the pity. It's unwarranted, and I'm sure you don't want it." Marrow said gently, sorrow lacing his words.
  "Thank you." Ian said simply, after a moment's silence. He had spoken softly, not trusting his voice in fear it would break. 
  He gave the doctor a respectful nod, and left without another word. He drove home in heavy silence, the sun still out despite it being half past seven. It was Summer, so the sun shone later, which Ian loved, along with the heat that had filled his car. The windows were slightly open, allowing a light breeze to graze him, but still letting him feel the ninety degree Summer air that came yearly in California. He took a moment to enjoy the season, for he knew he would not see it again, nor any other. It was almost time now. He was almost gone.

ian, ord, smosh, pg-13

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