A Piece of Me (Tracob)

It'll hurt - part two

It's a good half hour hour of me frantically asking around and being told repeatedly to "please take a seat until we know more" before Dr. Lawson emerges from one of the temporary patient rooms off to the side, and I'm truly expecting the absolute worst when he calls my name.

"Good news," Lawson smiles reassuringly and the tight mass in my chest unravels a bit. "Troye is okay. You can- should -come and see him right now if you want." I stand and follow the doctor, who speaks to me as we walk. "He's um... distressed, to say the least. You see, he didn't collapse per se, he fell over because he says he was hit by a wave of pain. The nurse assisting him wasn't able to get him back on his feet so she called an attending nearby and they put him on a stretcher. He was stable, but in a state of extreme pain that they couldn't find a cause for in his vitals, so they took him up to be scanned and that's where it gets tricky. Good news and bad news." He tells me.

"Bad news first," I say immediately and Lawson stops in place.

"Actually...the good news is the bad news. The scans showed that Troye's extreme mental trauma and distress had signaled to his brain that he's in severe pain, as a way to tell his body to start healing, which is why he collapsed. We don't know what triggered it. And that's good news because it's entirely in his head. You can see it clearly in the scans, it's completely brain related and nothing is wrong internally - apart from what we've already diagnosed last week."

"I- I don't understand. How is this good?"

Dr. Lawson pauses. "When we're in pain like that, it's a sigh that something inside of us needs immediate attention. We were worried there were threatening complications with Troye, but it's all mental. There's nothing wrong with his body, he's mentally distressed, which means as much as he thinks it hurts, it actually doesn't. He's basically, well, hallucinating the fact that he's hurting, does that make sense?

"Not really. But he's okay? He'll be fine?"

"Yes, and...no. He's stable right now, but he's still having, an episode, we'll say. He can't calm himself down, we need you to go and speak with him."

"Speak to him? I don't- that won't help, Doctor. He doesn't um-" I break off, hurt. "He doesn't really...like me, I don't think."

"Mr. Bixenman, you're the only person here that he knows. It's been over a half hour, this is way too much stress on his brain and his body. We run the risk of him going into shock and starting to seize. We could sedate him to prevent it, but with all the meds he's taking regularly and what we've given him within the last 35 minutes, there's a risk factor there too. We want to try this approach first."

"A seizure?" I don't know if I mouth it or say it aloud. "you said he was fine."

"I said he was stable. We don't want to wait until he isn't, believe me. Will you come talk to him?"

"I- I don't -"

"Jacob." Dr. Lawson holds my shoulder. "You're the only person he knows. He needs someone right now. I just need you to go in there and try. Try to speak with him. Try to calm him down, just do your best. Can you do that?"

I feel four years old again suddenly. My mom would always says that. "can you do that, Jacob?"

Whenever I was scared or hesitant. She's hold my hand and tilt my head up to look at her until I nodded and told her I could.

So I nod. "I'll do it.".

Dr. Lawson nods and gives me a reassuring smile. We start to walk again, entering Troye's room. There's an intern and two nurses in there, seemingly busy discussing something in undertones.

And Troye...Troye looks like he's ready to collapse at any second.

He's sort of curled on the edge of the bed, pulling at the cords of the two or three monitors he's hooked up to. His skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his eyes just barely open, and in that moment, all I can see is Troye. My Troye, the one before the accident and all this shit, the one who's eyes lit up just because I walked into a room, the one who loved me just as much as I loved him, if not more.

He needs me.

"Troye," I go to his side and bend so I'm on the same level. "it's me, it's Jacob, look at me."

His eyes meet mine hazily and he whines softly. "I can't do this."

"I know, it hurts. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I bring my hand up and stroke his damp forehead.

"In my head," he whispers. "That doctor said, I'm not...it's in my head."

"It is," I agree. "it's in your head, it's not really hurting you. But you feel it."

He nods, his eyes filling with tears.

"Shh, I know. You can feel it, it feels real." I take his hand and he nearly crushes my fingers in his grip. "I wish I could take it all away."

"I want it to stop," he whimpers. "it hurts."

"I need you to breathe. I can help you stop it but only if you listen to my voice. Breathe in. It's not real, it'll stop. Breathe out."

I feel him exhale shakily. "good job, keep breathing. In and out. You can do this. It's okay, Troye, it's okay." I stroke his hair hair for the longest several minutes. His grip tightens every now and then, like he's fighting a wave of something. I murmur softly to him, reassuring him that he's okay. I feel for once like he's listening.

"You're here," he says suddenly after a couple moments of silence, voice whispery and rough, like sandpaper.

"I'm here," I tell him, and for a second, I see something in his eyes. Something more. Recognition, love and comfort. And then his eyes close and his hand loosens around mine as his body goes limp suddenly.

I look up at doctor Lawson, who's watching the monitor carefully. "What happened?" My voice is tiny, terrified and Lawson glances at me.

"He fainted."

"What?"

"Fainted. He's fainted." I must look scared because Lawson shakes his head. "No, no, Mr. Bixenman, he's fine. He's pretty much asleep."

"Asleep?"

"Yes, look. Heart rate slowing to normal. You got him exactly where he needed to be. He's okay."

"He's really okay?"

"Absolutely. You can breathe again."

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until the doctor pointed it out.

--

I stay with Troye while he sleeps, and doze off myself at one point, but I'm wide awake when Lawson returns.

"So, good news, you should be able to return home with Troye today.

I sigh softly. "that's good."

"Yeah, it's good. I'll confirm what you already suspect, though; these episodes will likely continue until he starts getting better, faster. It's important that you're there for him and make sure it doesn't become too much I would say if it goes on for more than half an hour, call an ambulance. If he ever starts shaking uncontrollably, call an ambulance, and obviously if he stops breathing, call an ambulance."

Dr. Lawson lists it off like he's reading the weather and I listen, somewhat in shock.

I don't want this. I don't want to worry that Troye's going to have a seizure, or that he'll collapse somewhere.

I can't do this on top of everything else.

"Jacob?" Dr. Lawson's voice is gentle. "I know it seems like a lot. It's overwhelming. But this is just part of the recovery process. It seems like it drags on forever, but when he starts to get better, you'll thank whatever God you believe in that you made it through this with him. Just take it one day at a time."