Standing By

Stronger

(Avi)

 "Just —stop," I was telling everyone. There was so much panic around Tim, it was disorienting. Scott, Kirstie, and Kevin were trying to sing three different songs to him to relax him—the result of which was the exact opposite. Just a meshed-up and forced mess. Kirstie couldn't even seem to find a recognizable key, she was crying so hard. I felt Tim's grip on me slackening and I patted on his hand again. He'd responded to that earlier, but now he wasn't. I eyed him—oh crap, he'd stopped fighting. He'd passed out again. I swallowed thickly. I grabbed Mitch and told him to get the doctor—two if possible, before Rob passed out right alongside him.

"Rob, just blank your mind. Think of, um.... it is imperative that you, ehh... count Tim's breaths," I told him across Tim's gurney. He was breathing now that his mind had finally shut itself off.

"One. Two. Three... um.... four," Rob started counting, and it looked like Austin was doing the same thing. Chance seemed to be doing some deep breathing exercises.

"Scott!" I ordered sharply. "Stop. You are not helping right now! Kirstie, Kevin, you too. You can tap out a rhythm—the same rhythm—if you want." Naturally, every single one of them reverted to three different tempos. I reached over and held Scott's snapping fingers, and held Kirstie's hand still. Adam had leaned over and was talking quietly to Tim.

"Misbehavin'. Both of you, Misbehavin'. Kevin, got that?"

"Misbehavin'," he repeated, immediately switching over. My bad. I should have been specific. I leaned over to Tim's head—it looked like his eyes were starting to flutter.

"Tim," I whispered, then switched over to a quiet full voice. I've always been told I have a very calming and relaxing voice. "Tim, I know you're conscious. I see your eyelids fluttering. I need you to come to, please. I need you to picture your lungs. See them expanding. See your diaphragm pulling down. Now focus on doing it... good. Good. Now out. See your chest deflating. Watch your lungs empty out. Good, good. Let's do that again."

Adam's eyes flickered at me from over Tim's bed. "You're good in an emergency."

"Usually," I remarked. "I try. Sometimes I'm better than others. And somebody has to be calm around here—these guys are making so much commotion, they'd drive anyone into a panic attack. Not that I'm blaming anyone in the least," I added quickly as Adam started to frown at me. "I, uh.... just trying to help."

Tim grabbed my shirt, tears glistening in his eyes. "Whatever you do, do not sing to me."

"Okayyyy," I murmured, exchanging glances with Adam again. "May I ask why?"

"Well, if I—" His voice caught and cracked. "—if I—have to stop—if I can't sing, I mean—"

Adam leaned over, his eyes widening. "Tim, you listen to me. Of course you can sing. You can sing very well. And you are absolutely not quitting because of these panic attacks. Do you hear me? I won't let you."

"You worried you'll have a panic attack on stage?" I asked, starting to get an idea of what was going on in his head. Oh my God. Poor Tim. No wonder he was so upset right now. He nodded, the tears falling quickly down his face. At a loss for what to say to him, I just reached out to hug him. I felt him relax into my arms the second I touched him. Adam reached out and did the same thing.

"What is going on?" the doctor said, finally getting back to us. "I stepped out for a minute. Did he have another panic attack?"

"Yes, and he's scared he's going to have to stop performing because of them," I told him. "That is a scary thought. But I wouldn't think—"

"Oh, Tim, no, no, you're not," Chance started telling him as Mitch squealed. "You will get this under control. You're stronger than this. You will control the panic, not the other way around." He stepped forward and put hand on Tim's shoulder. "I know you, Tim Foust. You have it in you to get past this. You have it. You need to perform like most people need water and you will not let this stop you. Taking you off the stage, losing you from the group, is not going to happen. You hear me?"

Tim started nodding and I shot Chance a grateful look.

"Why don't we work out a plan?" Adam suggested. "Just in case the worst happens. So you won't panic. To, you know, keep it under control."

"Yes, yes, good idea," Rob quickly agreed.