Asleep or Dead (Frerard)

Chapter 1 (Frank's POV)

I’ve made a note to myself to write down things I hate. As my bored ass sat in the back seat of the car with my mom and dad up front, I began to put that list together in my mind. Here’s just some of the things that I despise:

Long road trips (we’re on one right now)

Country music (that’s what’s playing right now on the radio in the car)

Fast food joints (we’re passing a marathon of them right now as I look out the window of the car)

Traffic (we’ve been stuck in it several times before on this godforsaken trip)

School (I don’t think I need to explain why I hate school. At least it’s Christmas break, and we’re out for the holiday to do fuck all)

    As I put together this list, wishing I had a pen and paper to keep it all somewhere I can put it and not end up forgetting and losing it, I continued to think of what else I hate. I just about facepalmed when I realized I forgot one thing I hate more than just about anything on this list--hospitals. We’re on our way to one to see my dying grandpa, who’s been battling both heart disease and Alzheimer’s, and it makes me almost sick to my stomach just thinking about where we’re going. There’s so much about hospitals that I hate, too. I hate the smell of shit and rubbing alcohol it has. I hate sitting in uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room and hospital rooms. I hate the fact that there’s plenty of people that have died in them and (probably) haunt the place. I hate the nasty low-sodium food the place serves. My list can honestly go on forever, but I think I’ve made some clear points as to why hospitals give me bad vibes. I’ve hated them for a long time too, and I think my hatred for them started when I was a little kid. I’ve had several medical issues when I was little, including bronchitis. Because of this, a lot of my childhood was spent in the emergency room rather than...oh, I dunno, something normal for a little kid, like the playground at school. I especially hated it when the nurse would try to prick my arm with a needle. I remember screaming, crying, kicking, and thrashing a lot as my mom tried to hold me so that the nurse could get the job done already. I still don’t like needles to this day, so that’s another thing I can add to the list of things I hate.
    I honestly don’t want to be here at all. We’re all supposed to be visiting my grandma Rosalie in New York for Christmas break. I have no problem with that at all, it’s just the one thing I’m not looking forward to is seeing grandpa Anthony in the hospital. It’ll be hard seeing him anyway, knowing the fraying condition he’s in. I tried begging mom and dad to let me stay at Rosalie’s house while they all go visit him, but they of course refused to let me do so. I can see why that is; they would want me to see grandpa one last time before he dies, but they’re both fully aware of the anxiety I get when I step foot into a hospital. I’m not even lying; last time I was in the hospital for appendicitis a couple of years ago, I was a shaking and nervous mess. It was one anxiety attack after another while I was there, and I had to be sedated multiple times while my weak ass recovered after the surgery when my appendix burst open. Since there’s no way out of this whole ordeal, the best I can do is hope to god I don’t have another anxiety attack in front of my dying and confused grandpa.
    I felt my heart sink into my stomach when our car turned into the parking lot of St. Maria Memorial Hospital. We parked our vehicle before dad shut off the engine. We are here...and I’m already shaking in my seat.
    “We’re here, Frank,” my mom said to me, stepping out of the car with my dad. They both looked at me from outside of the car, waiting for me to move my ass already, but I don’t know if I can. I am literally paralyzed by my own fear, scared of what’s yet to come beyond those doors of the hospital. I shut my eyes and breathed in and out loudly, trying to regain control of myself.
    “It’s okay,” I told myself. “You got this, Frank. You’re here for grandpa. It’s just for grandpa…,”
    “Frank?” my mom called from outside of the car. She opened up the back door where I was, looking like she’s losing her patience with me. I really don’t blame her. “Come on, Frank. We gotta go,”
    “I know, mom. I’ll be out in a bit. It’s just that...you know how I hate places like this,” I said shakily, my voice quivering from how much I am visibly shaking.
    “Well, you’re gonna have to suck it up. We’re already late. Grandma Rosalie is waiting for us,” my mom said impatiently. Swallowing my pride, I sighed deeply and got out of the car before my dad locked it. I knew at that point there was no turning back. Together, we all walked through the parking lot and inside the hospital, making our way past the receptionist in the front lobby and up the elevator to the seventh floor. The entire time, my heart raced inside my chest and my whole body visibly shook. I am shaking and sweating and looking like a complete wreck in front of my parents, who both paid no mind to how I am right now. I swear I feel like everything around me is moving in slow motion as we went up the elevator, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I felt my heart nearly explode in my chest when the elevator doors stopped and opened up. Mom and dad stepped ahead of me and waited for me to follow along, which I don’t know if I could do. There’s doctors and nurses everywhere walking all over the place, some of the nurses wheeling sick patients in beds and wheelchairs. The place itself reeks of rubbing alcohol and bodily fluids, making my stomach churn. I don’t know if I can make it…
    “Frank, come on,” my dad said sternly, already impatient with my anxious ass. My mom looks equally as annoyed. I closed my eyes and reluctantly stepped out of the elevator before the doors could close on me, and slowly followed behind my mom and dad as they walked down the hall to grandpa’s room. As I did, I tried to breathe in and out deeply to calm myself down and started to count to ten.
    One...two...three…
    We turned right at the end of the hallway. We’re entering the Intensive Care Unit, as shown on a sign above us.
    Four...five...six…
    My mom stopped and asked one of the nurses where Mr. Iero’s room is at. She pointed ahead of her, telling her his room is on the left at the end of the hall.
    Seven...eight...nine…
    We continued to walk in the direction the nurse guided us in, until we eventually stopped in front of room 743. All three of us then walked inside, my body behind them.
    Ten...
    I suddenly stopped when I noticed that my grandpa was not in the first bed of the room, the second one at the end of the room being separated by a curtain. It was someone much younger than my grandpa, someone that even looks to be around my age. He’s hooked up to a series of machines, more than some of the other patients we passed on the way here. There’s a tube in his throat, as well as another one up his nose, for some reason. There are some other tubes in his arms, one of them hooked up to an IV. He is asleep, his frail body under the covers of the hospital bed. I couldn’t help but sigh, wondering what kind of trouble he got himself into. He’s just so young. Alone with the patient, I took a quick glance at his name on his wristband.
    Way, Gerard A.
    Gerard? Never heard that name before, or at least I haven’t heard anyone hold that kind of name. It’s kinda nice, actually. Now that I know his name, I began to wonder to myself something...what happened to him? Whatever it was, it sucks that it landed him here. I looked at his face that has some bruises on it, his black hair surrounding it. He looks so innocent, so pure, and again, so young. Something tried to take all that away, and maybe it’s the same thing that landed him here...but what is it? I smiled a bit when I looked up and over to the side of the bed to see some flowers and a stuffed bear on the nightstand beside the patient. At least he gets visitors, or at least that’s what it seems like.
    “Frank? Come on!” My dad hissed, whispering to me to get my attention. My head snapped back to reality and I noticed that my parents and grandma Rosalie were waiting for me beyond the curtain separating Gerard’s bed from grandpa’s. I reluctantly walked past Gerard’s bed and to grandpa’s. To say that he looked terrible would not only be pretty mean, but brutally honest and also an understatement. His body was so thin and ghostly pale. He had an oxygen cannula and an I.V hooked up to him. There were also food stains on his gown, probably a mess from one of the care techs feeding him pureed globs that this hospital calls food. Never has he looked so weak and on the verge of death. It honestly brought tears to my eyes, seeing the man that inspired me to become a musician bed-bound and dying. A series of memories with him began to flood my mind, from the times we went fishing to having jam sessions together, him on the drums and me on guitar. It was all so surreal to see grandpa like this, like some fucked up dream I can’t seem to wake up from…
    “Frank!”
    My head jolted upwards. Someone called my name. I turned and noticed it was my grandma Rosalie, who looked equally as distressed as the rest of us. My grandma has always been a no bullshit type of person, and has seen a lot in her days, being a retired nurse from World War II. She’s the kind of lady that rarely ever cries, if not at all, but it’s clear from the look on her face that she’s done quite a lot of that.
    “Sorry, grandma. Was deep in thought,” I said, apologizing.
    “It’s alright, bambino. Come say hello to Anthony,” she said, queuing with her hand to come closer to grandpa’s bedside. I gulped, doing as I was told. Grandpa never looked so close to death. It was genuinely heartbreaking to see. Right now he’s sleeping, his eyes closed as his hollow chest breathed in and out in slow rhythm. I could only hope that he’s at least at peace right now. That didn’t last though; his eyes slowly opened up, the sunken hazel orbs scanning his surroundings. I smiled shyly, trying to get his attention as his fraying mind took in what was around him.
    “Hey, gramps,” I said to him. Grandpa turned his head to face me, bewilderment in his weak eyes.
    “What? Who are you?” he asked, clearly alarmed and confused. “Who the fuck are you?”
    “Grandpa, it’s me...Frankie,” I replied, feeling my chest constrict. Grandpa’s Alzheimer’s has gotten pretty bad as of lately, but it’s never been this bad. I remember when he was first diagnosed and put in an Alzheimer’s nursing home, he was still able to recognize me and the rest of the family. Not here, though. All the memories he’s had with us are gone for good, and sadly, there was nothing I could do about it.
    “Who are you? Who are you people?” grandpa asked again, looking around him. “Where am I?”
    “Dad, you’re in the hospital. Me, Linda, Frank, and your wife have come to see you,” my dad said, sounding like he was on the verge of tears, something not very common for him. His wife looked equally as forlorn, tears leaking from her eyes.
    “What? What are you talking about? I don’t have a wife!” grandpa exclaimed.
    “Dad, yes you do. She’s come to see you, and so has your grandson Frank and your daughter in law--”
    “Bullshit! I want out of here!” Anthony yelled, shifting under the blankets. He looked around for a way out of his bed, but his body barely moved to get out. That’s how weak he was. I decided that I could no longer see him like this. I had to get out. It didn’t help that I started to cry. I need to get out of here, maybe hide in the bathroom or--
    Grandpa suddenly stopped, his body growing limp as his eyes shut. Beside him, one of the machines he was hooked up to started beeping loudly, indicating something had gone wrong with his body.
“Dad? Dad!” my father nearly yelled, shaking his dad that’s slipping away. No response. Anthony was as moveless as a stone.
“Oh my god…,” my mom said, covering her mouth with her hand. Next to her, grandma Rosalie wept uncontrollably, holding a scrunched up tissue to her eyes. A nursing tech rushed inside to see what the commotion was about. She quickly looked at grandpa and ran right out, probably to grab the nurse. She returned with one, who gently pushed us aside to check his vitals. She shook her head, turning to face us.
“I’m afraid to say that he’s passed on,” she said. “Since he’s DNR, we can’t resuscitate him. We’ll call the funeral home to pick him up. I am very sorry for your loss,” she frowned as she stood up and left with the tech, leaving us with my now deceased grandfather. Next to me, mom and dad held each other as they cried, grandma beside her dead husband holding his hand as she wept. I suddenly felt very light-headed as tears fell from my eyes, my chest still tightening. That’s it. I’m out of here. I can’t afford to see grandpa like this. I jolted up to my feet and out of the room, dashing past Gerard’s bed. As I ran out, I got a brief look at the boy in the hospital bed. It really hurt to see someone so young in such a state.
No. I can’t think right now. Grandpa just fucking died, and my anxiety is getting the best of me. I ran down the hall and quickly went into the bathroom, locking it behind me. I rushed to the sink and turned on the water, wetting my face as I attempted to calm the fuck down, and failing miserably. Hyperventilating and shaking, I shrunk into a ball as I sat down on the floor, rocking back and forth. I just so badly wanna disappear.