Through Chrissie's eyes

Stubborn Patient

They insisted that I should go home, including Brian, but I couldn't leave him there. At least that first night at the hospital I wanted to stay there. Dr. Reeves who had attended and cared for my husband so far ended up agreeing. John Reid and the boys said goodbye to us, wishing Brian could get well soon.

Now I was sitting in the chair where Roger was before, watching my husband, no matter how tired and weak he was, Brian refused to sleep.

"You must rest," I insisted.

"And you, too," he muttered back, "I didn't want to give you all this trouble, I worried you, I made everyone worried, even Roger was in despair."

"John told me how you were, it wasn't an exaggeration their reaction," I said, "but ..."

I stopped talking as I realized that what I would say out loud would sound strange and even cruel criticism. Since knowing Brian I knew that being a musician was one of his biggest dreams, and now he was living it all, shows and more shows, trips, recordings, but I figured that all that rush was what had probably made him sick. As much as it was a dream, was all this madness worth it? It was unfair for me to make such a comparison, I couldn't measure things that way. If I were to stop to think, all the professions had a risk.

It wasn't only that which had made me sad, the way the receptionist barred me, as if I were a mere stranger, or a reckless fan taking advantage of the situation, it was as if I were being forbidden to see my husband just because he was a famous guitarist and I could be pretending to be his wife just to see him. How absurd!

I didn't notice that I was staring at the bedroom door, one hand on my chin, my index finger tapping nervously on my cheek until Brian called.

"Chrissie, what's wrong?" I turned to Brian and noticed how worried he was.

"I ..." I tried to recover from my daydreaming "I was just wondering if ... Did you feed yourself and rest properly during your trip? Maybe that's why you got sick."

"I rested as best I could, but maybe it was an accumulation of tiredness," he said thoughtfully, "about the disease, I'm calmer now, I'm just worried about you."

"I'm fine, Bri," I tried to disguise, "I think all we need now is to get some sleep."

"Okay," he insisted no longer, the tiredness finally overcame him.

I lay on his chest, hugging him tightly, being with him there reminded me that regardless of what had happened and what I had thought, at that moment he was just my husband, who promised to love me forever, to the rest of our lives, no matter the circumstances.

The next morning, however reluctant I was, I returned home and left in order what I needed. Dr. Reeves, after doing some more tests, concluded that it would take four months for Brian to fully recover. He accepted this time with some sadness. One thing that Brian hated was to be standing idle for a long time while he could be studying a new scientific fact or making new music. But it was more than that that worried him. I also saw that to keep up with his state I would have to leave my job for a while.

"Don't do that, Chrissie" Brian told me when I told him, "you can't stop your life for me ..."

"It's not what I'm doing, seriously, it's my decision, you need me, I love you and I will take care of you, don't start with"stop your life for me," you are a very, very important part of my life, Brian understood?" I sounded kind of angry, but he understood that it was for his own good.

Sometimes we let our insecurity show. In the midst of this situation, a truce that arose between us was that we agreed I'd spend the day at the hospital and sleep at home. Gradually we got used to this hospital routine, the boys and the girls came to see us always, and for now Queen had stopped all their activities.

"That's not right, folks," Brian snapped when they told him about the break "I'm ... not helping... you should ..."

"Continue the band without you? Replace you?" Freddie guessed it "yeah, maybe we'll do it ... Maybe we'll get a smarter guitarist than you ..."

"As if you could find another astrophysicist guitarist out there" John added.

"It's serious, guys" Brian laughed, but then he grimaced, feeling the pain of the medicine "I'm afraid, even if you put someone in my place ..."

"Nobody will replace you!" Roger hit the bed, which made Brian moan in pain again "sorry ... But if they do it, they'll get a lesson from me."

"It's good to know that you miss me ..." My husband smiled at his friends, moved.

Roger, Freddie, and John said good-bye, and when we were alone, I had to ask.

"Did you really fear Bri, of having to leave the band?" that was enough to break my heart, and forget all the bad consequences of fame.

"I don't want to have to do this ever" Bri couldn't contain his tears. "They're my family, Chrissie."

"I know, and you saw, if you depend on them, you're not going anywhere," I said firmly, so he wouldn't doubt it.

"My love, do me a favor?" Brian called again.

"Of course, tell me" I was willing to take his request.

"When you go home, take and bring my notebook and Red Special" he told me, making that face that could convince me always, but not now.

"No way!" I disagree and made a face "you are in recovery and rest, that face of yours won't work now, no sir, and besides, this is a hospital, you know, there is a basic rule that you need to be quiet, and playing a guitar does make noise, so I'm sorry, my love, but I won't be able to do that."

"Chrissie ..." Brian covered his eyes with his hands and began to laugh, I didn't know if it was of anger, frustration or of my face.

"Yoy can laugh how much you want, I won't bring your guitar" I giggled, too.

"So do this" my husband took a deep breath, ready to propose another truce "arrange a piece of paper and a pen for me to at least write,it doesn1t take that much effort to write."

"All right" I was able to agree and I granted this request.

Even as he lay back on the hospital bed, Brian wrote and muttered a melody, the way he was use to composing. As enthusiastic as he was, that composition would have to wait a little longer to be ready.