Summary: Stan's arthritic back problems have finally reached the point to which surgery is needed. Thankfully Mabel, Dipper, and Ford are there to help him through the long road to recovery.
A/N: This story will only be about five chapters or less. I was just itching to write some Gravity Falls something or other.
Recovery
Chapter 1
To say that Mabel was worried was an understatement. Over the past few hours she could not help but think about what could go wrong.
What if they gave him too much anaesthetic?
What if they could not stop the bleeding from the incision?
What if…?
What if…?
What if…?
"Mabel, are you okay? You're not blinking."
Mabel emerged from her unnerving thoughts and looked at her brother. Dipper was watching her with slight concern.
"What is taking so long?"
"Don't worry, Mabel. I bet the doctor will be out any minute now to tell us that the surgery was successful," Ford said in an attempt to reassure his great niece.
Ford was worried as well, but the relief that his twin brother was finally getting the help he needed overpowered all else. Dipper could not help but feel lax about the surgery as well. After all, Grunkle Stan had survived a lot worse than a profitable surgery.
"I sure hope you're right…" Mabel said, looking down at the white tile floor.
She wished she had been allowed to bring Waddles as some sort of distraction and form of comfort, but when she tried Ford said it was quite unlikely the hospital staff would approve of a pig hanging out in their waiting room.
Dipper grabbed her hand when he noticed her start to chew her fingernails. It was a nervous habit that she had been doing on and off throughout their entire time in the waiting room. Every time she started to bite, he would wordlessly stop her.
Finally, a familiar doctor walked into the waiting room.
"Stanford Pines?" he called, looking in their direction.
Ford closed the book he had been reading and stood up. Dipper and Mabel followed him to where the doctor stood in the doorway. The scrub-clad man gave them a reassuring smile before gesturing for them to follow him down the hallway.
"Everything went just fine. He's set up in recovery now, but shouldn't wake up for another hour or so."
"Great," Ford sighed in relief.
"So we can go in and see him?" Dipper asked.
The doctor nodded.
Once they were outside the room, Ford looked at the pair of twins and told them to go on in while he discussed further information with the doctor. He smiled at their retreating back as they walked into the room, happy that Mabel was no longer stressing.
Stan was clad in a sky blue hospital gown. A soft, off-white blanket covered his legs and waist, but the chiropractic back pillow he frequently used was evident underneath his body. Even after the anaesthetic wore off, it was highly likely Stan would not have any trouble falling back asleep despite being propped into a bit of a sitting position. After all, he was always falling asleep in his recliner.
Stan was just fine. So why was Dipper feeling so downhearted all of a sudden? It was not like Grunkle Stan was on his death bed. He was merely recovering from a successful open spine fusion.
It had to have been the hospital environment and the fact that his dentures were off to the side in a bubbling glass of antibacterial cleanser. It also must have been the way he looked so still and just plain tired. He did not look like the normal loud, grouchy man he was used to. It was unnerving.
"You okay over there, bro bro?" Mabel asked, looking like her normal self again; big grin and all. She had even found joy in dropping another cleanser tablet into the glass of fake teeth just moments before, while simultaneously talking to her unconscious grunkle.
"Yeah, yeah," Dipper replied. "I'm just…I guess it's just…he looks so old, y'know?"
"Well, duh. Grunkle Stan is old," she laughed. "Where have you been?"
Stan and Ford fought creatures and beasts on the sea. They encountered and studied cryptids in Gravity Falls. Just three weeks prior they stumbled upon a vicious pack of chupacabras deep in the woods and had to fight them off, leaving Ford with a nasty gash on his leg. Stan had helped stitch it up then proceeded to force him into a type of bedrest, much to the older twin's dismay.
Again, witnessing one of his great uncles limp around with a cane gave Dipper a reality check. His grunkles were indeed old. Their bodies were not getting any less fragile no matter the adventures they all went on and the dangers they faced.
The twins both looked toward the door as it opened and Ford walked in.
"What's up? What did the doctor tell you?" Dipper asked as Ford walked to the foot of the bed.
"He just gave me information on recovery and checking for infection and what not. Stuff I already expected to hear," he answered.
Dipper nodded.
"So, uh, kids…"
The young twins looked up at him. Ford rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
"Last night Stanley actually asked for me to um…not have you guys in here."
"What? Why?" Mabel asked, face falling into a frown.
"He doesn't want you guys in here when he isn't fully coherent," Ford explained.
"Well that's just stupid," Mabel crossed her arms.
How dare Grunkle Stan try and stop her from seeing him while he was in the hospital? He had taken care of them while they were sick or when Dipper had sprained his ankle, so why could they not do the same for him?
"I'm sorry, Mabel, but you know how he is. It's a dignity sort of thing."
"Coming from the man who walks around without pants," Dipper said, giving his sleeping grunkle the side-eye and crossing his arms; Ford had to fight the urge to laugh at how the young twins looked more identical than usual in that moment.
Ford did, however, give them a small but sympathetic smile.
"I'm sorry kids, but I gave him my word," he said before looking specifically at Mabel. "Besides, that would give you more time to make that 'Get Well' sweater you were talking about."
Mabel's face lit up at that. Ever since they found out that Stan needed surgery, she had been planning the color, design, length, and fabric.
"Right!" she cheered with excitement, throwing her fists in the air.
Stanley gave a small groan and tipped his head a bit to the side.
Mabel covered her mouth before throwing her fists up again and whispering, "Right!"
"What does that leave me with? What the heck am I supposed to do in the meantime?" Dipper asked.
"Um…help Soos, Melody, and Wendy around the Mystery Shack?" Ford shrugged.
"Right…" Dipper said in a far less excited tone than his twin.
"Now run along, kids. If Stanley wakes up and you two are still here he'll put my head on the mantle."
An hour after Dipper and Mabel reluctantly departed was when Stanley awoke. His twin brother was so out of it that the best he could muster up as a form of conversation were a few mumbled and jumbled sentences. Consciousness only lasted about ten minutes before he was once again out like a light.
The second time he awoke was that evening. The slowness and confusion persisted slightly, but not nearly to the extent as before. This time around he had actually put his dentures in and placed his hearing aid back into his right ear.
Stanley grumbled as Ford poured water into a cup and handed it to him.
"I'm not an invalid, Ford."
"Yes you are. For now anyway."
"Yeah, but I can pour my own cup of water," he replied tiredly yet with the edge he always had when he argued.
"Stanley, you couldn't even reach over to grab the water pitcher without wincing in pain. Besides, you're not supposed to be doing any extra movement this soon after surgery anyway," Ford said, rolling his eyes.
Stan just gave a grunt as a response before taking another sip of water.
"Thanks for sending the kids home by the way."
"You're welcome. They definitely weren't happy about it though."
"Eh," was Stan's only response.
"Mabel did, however, seem excited to work on your sweater," Ford said with a grin.
"Jeez, I already have a million of 'em," he said.
Stanley could not fool his brother, though. He knew that Stanley was happy with each sweater he received, no matter the color or design.
Ford gave Stan a refill, allowing him to actually hold the cup this time so he did not feel too incompetent. However, when he took another drink was when the liquid decided to go down the wrong pipe. The incursion irritated his throat, which was already sore from the endotracheal tube that had been inserted during surgery. Stan dropped the cup, the water splashing all over the bed and onto his brother.
Dismissing his wet shirt entirely, Ford shot up and held his brother as still as possible so he would not put any strain on his healing lower back. Ford kept his arms firmly around his shoulders until the coughing fit subsided, face clearly displaying his concern.
Still worn out and mind still muddled from the anesthetic, Stan did not even notice that the remaining water in his mouth had pooled down his chin along with some drool. Ford grabbed a small towel from the bedside table and gently wiped off Stan's mouth and neck before feeding him more water to ease his distressed airway. Only some managed to slip down his throat before more of the liquid slipped from his mouth; without blinking, Ford dabbed once more at his brother's face.
"Agh, ow, shit…ow…" Stanley groaned as he attempted to place a hand to his lower back.
"Hey, it's okay. Easy now…" Ford consoled as he pressed him gently back into his original position against the chiropractic pillow.
"This freaking sucks," he said in a scratchy voice.
Ford smiled softly, though the worry still evident on his face. He was sure that if Stanley was in a better frame of mind or felt up to it he would have scolded him for staring at him in such a way.
"It'll all be worth it in the long-run," Ford said.
"Better be or I'm suing," Stan replied before closing his eyes once more.