Everything or Nothing
CatacylsmicEvents
Chapter 20: Trust
Notes:
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Chuuya, for his part, isn't having a great day either.
He's sitting down on the edge of the examination table, buttoning his shirt back up as he waits for the shakes to go down—because after his fourth cardioversion in a month, it's getting harder and harder to come down each time.
It isn't the end of the world, but it's really annoying to try to get a button through a hole when your fingers won't stop quivering.
"I—" Chuuya grits his teeth, a one more violent shudder running through him as he fights to keep them from chattering. "It's back to where it should be, right?"
Sakamoto nods, jotting down the readings from his monitor. "So far, so good...Just a couple of more things, and then we should be done until next week."
"Okay," Chuuya nods, finally managing to get his shirt adjusted—but not quite ready to get to his feet. "What?"
"I've scheduled a consult for you in four weeks."
Chuuya blinks, hissing as he tries to wiggle his feet. "A consult?"
"With our chief of surgery," Sakamoto explains, and when Chuuya's face darkens, he adds, "it isn't like you're obligated to jump straight into an O.R.—"
I said I wanted to wait until this summer." Chuuya protests quietly, and the doctor winces.
"I know, Chuuya—but you'll have to go through a consult first anyway, and you're very lucky to be on Dr. Mori's schedule, his waiting list is quite long—"
"I didn't ask to be put on his schedule!"
"Chuuya," Sakamoto presses on, "I don't think you're really grasping the gravity of the situation—"
"Don't say that." Chuuya cuts him off flatly. "It killed my mother. I know it's serious."
Right. Right.
Sakamoto winces. Doctors are expected to be a lot of things, but he was never prepared for the fact that he would be expected to be a therapist as well, because sometimes—that's what it takes to convince a patient to accept treatment.
And he's struggling with it.
"And the same thing could happen to you, Chuuya." His doctor presses. "That's what we're trying to avoid. But the situation, it could deteriorate on the turn of a dime—"
"Can you promise me it's going to work?" Chuuya asks sharply, and the cardiologist sighs.
"I can tell you it's your best bet.”
"Can you tell me I wouldn't die during the surgery?"
And there it is.
"...It's significantly more dangerous for someone with your diagnosis to go under general anesthesia," Sakamoto admits, "but that's a chance, I can guarantee you, you'll die without it."
Chuuya gets quiet for a minute, staring at his feet, his eyes struggling for a moment to focus. "Do you know what happened the last time a doctor guaranteed me something?"
"...No," the older man sighs, resigned to the fact that he isn't getting through to him. "I don't."
"The last time my Mom left a hospital." Chuuya stares him down, and if there's one thing that the man has to admit, it's that for someone so young, Chuuya is formidable. "She could barely walk. Her hair was starting to turn gray. She'd lost so much weight—” Chuuya hates remembering her like that. "And they said they figured it out, and she was going to be fine." His voice wavers slightly towards the end. "They promised me."
