Need Someone | [Complete]

Chapter 5: Getting Out

A/N: The following chapter contains medical situations some may find uncomfortable or objectionable. It was important for me not to glamorize or sugarcoat the experience of caring for someone going through serious illness and treatment. I hope you can enjoy this chapter nonetheless. 

_____

Two days later, I walked into a conversation between my two favorites. "You can't leave until you poop, Mr. Ziegler. You know that." Theresa scolded him. He stood in the hall holding his IV stand. "Just because you've been downing every laxative in the hospital doesn't mean your body will cooperate. If anything, you're encouraging a blowout."

"Dammit, Theresa," he said in jest. "I just want to go outside for a little bit before I'm stuck in here forever."

Ziggy chose to go through the treatment, and I had mixed feelings about it. I wanted him to fight it, of course, but I didn't think he fully understood what it would be like.

Theresa saw me approaching and smiled. "Maybe if you ask your favorite nurse real nice, she'll walk you around a bit to get the gears turning."

He looked over at me pleadingly. "Please?"

"Sure. Come on." I took the saline back from the stand and held it for him. "You better not pass out on me again."

"Too soon," he laughed.

We walked together down the long hall to the elevators and I heard his breathing become labored. As we waited, he leaned against the rail and panted. "Why am I so fucking tired?"

"You had surgery a few days ago. Your body is trying to recover."

"They didn't even do anything."

"They did more than you think. You need rest. I'll get you a wheelchair just in case."

I grabbed one from up the hall. It was fancy and felt expensive. It folded into a compact size and rolled smooth and quiet. We only made it out of the elevator and a few steps up the hall when he stopped. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Do you want to head back?" I asked him. He didn't answer right away. He looked distracted. In pain, as usual, but this time, it seemed like it was more than physical.

"I wanna see where it is," he said.

"Where what is?"

"The cancer wing."

I took him across the skywalk to the oncology wing. The skywalk wasn't the most direct path, but the sunny corridor overlooking the campus gardens was sure to ease the darkness of what we were doing. The lush green of the trees and tall grasses shrouded the paved sidewalks that snaked paths between the wings. Ziggy put his weight along the railing and stared through the windows. His slow gait grew slower, but not because he was tired.