Sorry this one took so long, nothing is really coming out the way I want it to. Enjoy regardless.
I return to the exam room, where Michael is finishing up with Ashton.
"He's almost ready for you," Michael pats dry the water that has sprayed onto Ashton's face. "Where's your friend?"
"Bathroom," I sit in one of the chairs next to Ashton. He gives me a wink and a smile while Michael wraps a length of floss around his fingers.
"How is he? Looked pretty nervous coming in,"
"He's . . . " I trail off, remembering the look in his eyes. "Not great."
Ashton gives me a thumbs up to show he understands.
"Man, aligned teeth are so much easier to floss," Michael says to Ashton. Ashton half-laughs around Michael's hands.
Michael glances up and smiles, seeing my confused expression. "I work with special needs kids pretty much all the time. Their mouths are in pretty bad shape just because they're more focused on quality of life than oral health, which can make fitting floss in between the teeth less than easy sometimes."
He finishes flossing and lets Ashton up. Ashton smacks his lips and sticks his tongue out, flashing the puckered edges of the stitched lacerations. "See? All clean."
Michael laughing behind him makes me laugh.
"Was Sebastian going to watch? He's still in the bathroom, right?"
"Yeah," he still hasn't come back, I figure I'd better go get him.
I knock on the bathroom door lightly. "Seb? They're ready for me. You coming?"
No answer. I open the door. Baz is sitting, curled up, against the toilet. He's shivering, shaking all over, his eyes squeezed shut, crying hard. I don't think he's breathing.
The instructions run through my head like bullet points: stay calm. Don't touch. Ask what he needs. Short sentences. Be predictable. Guide breathing.
"Baz, hey, it's Phoebe." I keep my voice even, not expecting him to respond yet. "Focus on your breathing for me, try to slow it down. Breathe with me." I mime deep breaths and he starts trying to follow along, stumbling and gasping.
"Where's your Ativan?"
He shakes his head, fast and jerky. "I—I don't—"
"You don't have it?"
Another head shake.
Great time to forget your emergency meds. "Okay. Let's just think about breathing. Slow down." I take more deep breaths.
Before too long, he's breathing better and trying to talk. "Don't want—he's gonna—please, no."
My phone buzzes. Ashton: Is Sebastian okay?
Phoebe: Panic attack in the bathroom. Handling it.
"No, no, Baz, it's okay. Nothing's happening. Just relax, deep breaths."
He grabs my hand, squeezing hard. He only lets go when he's calm.
"Baz? You okay?"
He lets out a long breath. "I think so." then he looks at me. "I really don't want to go in there."
I nod. "I'll go first. Ashton is really nice and I'll be right there, you'll be just fine." I say softly.
He looks sick. "I really don't want to go in there."
